Look What the Cat Drags In

LOOK WHAT THE CAT DRAGS IN

By Austen Brauker

Characters- a married couple. A man and a woman 28-38 years old.

CURTAIN OPENS:

(Setting: an early morning kitchen scene, coffee brewing, a man and a woman in nightgown and bathrobe, he is pouring the coffee when she enters, the woman is obviously agitated. She is wearing big puffy cat slippers. She speaks.)

Where’s the cat?

Haven’t seen it. Maybe we got lucky and he got run over by a car.

Didn’t you let him in last night?

What do you mean?

I heard you get up last night. Didn’t you let the cat in? I thought I heard the door.

I don’t remember getting up.

I’m sure I heard you get up. I heard the door.

Then where is the cat? If you’re so sure you heard the door, if I got up, then why isn’t the cat in here.

That’s what I’m asking you.

He was inside already as far as I know. Before we went to bed. I saw him. Licking himself like he was in love... Face buried to his ears. (takes a drink of coffee.) That’s all he ever does. Lick, lick, lick.

(under her breath.) You could learn something.

What do you mean?

What do you think I mean?

Look who’s talking.

What does that mean?

I don’t know. Maybe there’d be more licking if there were a little more cleaning. (He sweeps his arm to motion toward the dishes.)

Are you talking about the dishes…or me?

Does it matter? Ask your stupid cat. He seems to be the only thing you care about.

That cat was my mothers. It’s all I have left of her.

Thank god for that.

You know what. You make me sick.

Yeah. The feeling’s getting to be mutual. And you can include that hairball pussy of yours in on that too.

Yeah. Well maybe he could teach you something. When is the last time you were up all night. Seems to be that you’re lacking in that department too.

Too? In addition to what?

That’s what I ask myself. In addition to what? That’s exactly my point. There’s nothing much at all. Not as far as you’re concerned.

I suppose you’re right. Nothing seems to spark my interest anymore. I’d rather watch TV. At least the conversation is better.

You always hated the cat.

Yeah. You can include your mother in on that too. Both of them hated me.

It was never good enough for you was it?

Nope. Whatever it is. It isn’t.

You would rather see it dead…wouldn’t you?

I don’t really care what happens to it. I don’t care if the damn thing ever comes back.

I see how you are. I hate you. (slow and loathing) I hate you with all my heart. I hope you rot in hell.

At least I won’t see that god damn cat there. That’s a bonus.

Eleven years. Eleven years together and now the truth comes out. How could you do this to me?

You’re saying this because I don’t like your C-A-T anymore?(he looks down at her waist.)

You know what I’m talking about!

Yeah. But do you know what you’re talking about? That’s the real question.

Does it even matter anymore?

Ok then. (Takes a drink.) I hate your cat.

I hate you.

Good. We’re even then.

No. I don’t think so. It’s over. You left the cat out too long this time…

(raspy, unhealthy, labored) MEOW.

Oh my god! (She runs to the pile of fur.)

You would think so. Wouldn’t you. Are you down on your knees praying? I havn’t seen you like that in a long, long time.

Damn you! There’s something wrong with him.

I told you that the first day I saw the damn thing. And I don’t entirely mean your mother. I said to myself, you know what…

(interrupting.) He’s having trouble breathing!

What’s the matter? Did he tongue his own marbles ‘till they got caught in his throat or did they just turn raw and get him all choked up?

He can’t breathe!

(disdainfully.) That’s what happens when you spend all day with your face between your legs. Licking your own hairball till the skin comes off.

(in a panic.) God damn you! I need help! There is something wrong with him.

Shall I get the ball bat? The pellet gun? Maybe I can rig a hose to the exhaust and we…

(pleading with emotion.) Please!…If you ever cared for me at all. I mean…If I ever meant anything to you. Please help me.

(changing tone.) Ok… Ok…I’ll see what I can do.

Look at him. (crying.) He can hardly breathe! Listen to that!

(picks up the limp cat and looks it over for injuries.) What’s wrong kitty?

Is he going to die?

I don’t know.

What’s wrong?

I don’t know.

What can we do?

God damn it! I don’t know! (calms down.)....I’m sorry. I’m…I’m… trying. Just give me a minute. (He keeps trying to find out what is wrong with the cat.)

I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier.

Yeah. Me too.

I’m sorry. Things just haven’t been right between us for a while. (there is a tense pause and she takes on a confessional tone.) There’s something I think I should tell you…Something you should know…

Yeah…(still inspecting without looking up.) What’s that?

(She stops, notices something and completely changes her tone, her body stiffens.) Wait a minute. Where is your ring?

What?

Your ring. Where is your wedding ring?

I don’t know. Probably on the night stand.
(she checks the bed room and comes back.) It’s not there! It’s not on the night stand. What have you been up to? (She walks away, over to the kitchen sink.) Who is she? (She goes over to the dirty dishes and knocks the pans to the floor.) Who are you fooling around with? (She kicks a pan.) Oh…I can guess. It’s probably that woman from the video store isn’t it? (She picks up a pan and stomps back over to him.) Or is it that bitch from the bank? That one with the fancy business cards. Where have you been doing it, huh? Where do you go to screw your whores? (She throws the pan across the room.) This marriage is a joke. You are a joke! I want a divorce! I want a god damn divorce! (She hasn’t noticed but the cat has stopped breathing.)

Would you shut up! Get me a god damn pen!

A …what?

A pen! (He grabs both shoulders and looks directly into her eyes.) Can you hear me? I need a pen. An ink pen. An ink pen and a sharp knife. I need to give him a tracheotomy.

(She stops, taken aback, then frantically digs in her purse. She hands him a pen. He pulls it apart to use it as a breathing tube. She grabs a knife from the sink. He performs a tracheotomy on the cat. While cutting into the cat’s neck he finds the problem, a giant ball of hair clogging the animal’s windpipe. )

Oh my god, look at the size of that hairball!

One too many minutes of self glory for you old boy. (The man pulls out the hairball and holds it up for his wife to see. As they eye the ball of hair, the missing wedding ring falls from the tangled wad and lands on the ground with a clank. It rolls to a stop.)

Oh my god. Your ring. I am so so sorry… I’m so sorry. (She starts sobbing.)

It’s okay. It’s alright honey. These kinds of things happen. It was a mistake. I have never cheated on you. I never would do that.

(The man is still holding the pen casing and he finally reads the lettering written on the side while he is looking over her shoulder during the embrace.)

(Confused.) When did you stay at the Motel 6, dear?

(She immediately stops crying and looks up at him with a guilt covered face. She lets go from her husband’s embrace and then turns away from him, ashamed, looking at the floor and nervously grabbing hold of her own wedding ring.

Lights slowly fade until a final bright spotlight is on the carcass of the dead cat.)