The Doctor Part IV: Spooky Takes New York

Chapter 15: The Show

Spooky is in a room. He looked into the mirror. Then Owens himself entered. "Heya sport, are you ready for the show?" He asked. "Oh! Yes of course." He said. "Now listen to me, this is really important..." Owens paused. "I want to do a clean show. No swearing, no outrageous stuff, no political stuff. Just a clean show." Owens seemed serious. Spooky thought for a moment, he was wanting to kill him. (What the hell are you waiting for!? KILL HIM NOW!!!) He thought. "Okay," Spooky said. "I'll do it." He agreed. "Alright, thank you sport, we are on in one minute. Be ready." Owens said as he exits the room. "Hey Owens?" Spooky called out. "Yes sport?" Owens asked. "I want you to call me 'Marz' on your show." Spooky said sternly. "Alright, i can do that, Marz." Owens said, he walks away. Spooky is now at the backstage, behind curtains. He can hear the audience clapping. "And now...i have a guest. A really new and special guest. An unusual one as well. Ladies and gentlemen, Marz!" Owens said. Spooky came out from the curtains and did a dance. Then he went over to the sofa and he sat down. "So, ahh, thanks for coming on the show. But i gotta tell ya, with what happened in 80's party a few days ago, I'm sure that many of our viewers here, and at home, might find that look of yours in poor taste." Owens said. Spooky is wearing a tuxedo. He wasn't listening to Owens. He's memorized by all the lights shining on him... all the eyes on him... he doesn't answer Owens. Nervous laughter comes from the audience. "So... can you tell us why you're dressed like this? City seems to be full of lab coats these days." Owens tried again. It was a long, uncomfortable beat. Spooky glances at the studio audience, awkward. "Yeah. Isn't it great?" Spooky said. There is dead silence in the booth, everyone's just staring at the monitors. The technical director looks at the director. "This guy's got nothing." He said. The director hits the producer's talk button. "Martin, what the hell? You wanna kill this?" He spoke into the mic. Owens glances over at his producer Martin, who's sitting off-camera on a director's chair by a monitor. Martin shrugs at him. Owens smiled. He tried to save the interview. "So when we talked earlier, you mentioned that you aren't political. That this look isn't a political statement." Owens said. "That's right, I'm not political, Owens. I'm just trying to make people laugh." Spooky said. Owens is beat. "How's that goin' for ya?" Owens asked, smiling. The studio audience laughs at Spooky. Spooky didn't answer Owens, he just smiles to himself. "Have you been working on any material? Do you want to tell us a joke now?" Owens tried not to laugh. The audience claps, egging Spooky to tell a joke. Spooky reaches into his jacket pocket and--
Pulls out a worn notebook. He looks through it, he sees a photo of Curt. He pauses for a moment then turns the page. He found a joke. Spooky is reading. "Okay. Here's one. Knock-knock." He read it out loud. "And you had to look that up?" Owens said. The studio audience laughs. Spooky nods. "I want to get it right. Knock-knock." Spooky reads it again. Owens makes a face like: (Okay, I'll go along with this.) "Who's there?" Owens asked. Spooky looks up from his notebook-- He saw the audience looking back at him, waiting for the punchline. "It's the police, ma'am. Your son has been hit by a drunk driver. He's dead." Spooky said morbidly. A few in the audience groan. A couple even laugh. A trumpeter plays "wha-wha-wha-whuuuuh" on his trumpet from the band stand. However, a person named James feels disturbed. He is sitting on the sofa. "Ahhhh! No, no, -- You can not joke about that." James said. Owens shook his head. "Yeah, that's not funny, that's not the kind of humor we do on this show." Owens said, irritated. Owens glances over at Martin in the wings. He gives him the "wrap it up" sign. "Sorry. It's been a rough few weeks, Owens. Ever since i killed those guys at the 80's party." Spooky just kept going, he is on a roll. It was beat. The studio audience can't tell if he's joking or not. Owens can't either. "Okay, I'm waiting for the punchline." Owens looked at Spooky, confused. "There is no punchline. It's not a joke." Spooky said. The director stares at the monitor. "Did he just confess to killing the Scumshots?" He asked. "Yeah. I think he did." The technical director said, horrified. "He definitely did." The associate director said. "Jesus Christ," The director hits the talk button. "Camera Three, get in close." He said into the mic. The angle on the third monitor is zooming slowly close on Spooky's face. Martin motions for Owens to kill the interview. Owens shakes his head to himself. This is a big "get," it could be great television. Owens turns back to Spooky. "You're serious, aren't you? You're telling us you killed those three young men at the 80's party. Why should we believe you?" Owens said, gravitas. "I got nothing left to lose, Owens. Nothing can hurt me anymore. This js my fate, my life is nothing but a comedy." Spooky shrugged. James's sitting on his couch watching this interview play out on TV. A catte is asleep next to him. The open envelope and the money are lying on the coffee table. No sign of the flowers anywhere. "Let me get this straight, you think killing those guys is funny?" Owens asked. "Comedy is subjective, isn't that what they say? All of you, the system that knows so much, you decide whats right or wrong. What's real or what's made up. That same way you decide what's funny or not." Spooky said. James edges forward on the couch, you can see a hint of agreement on his face. Back on the set, we can tell by the way Owens's now interviewing Spooky, talking to him slower, more thoughtfully, that he thinks this is gonna get him an Emmy... Maybe even a Peabody.