The Complete Thievery of Blackguards

A play in one act, in which two miscreants debate both the merits of an honest man’s belongings, and the talents of his artistic friend.

INT: A CAR parked in a DRIVEWAY at NIGHT

Two men sit in the front seats of the car. DARNELLE is sitting in the driver’s seat, looking at CDs. WYATT is sitting in the passenger seat, looking through the glove box, where he finds:

WYATT: Ipod nano, hell-o.


WYATT: Hello. What’d I say. Can I pick ’em?


WYATT: Can I pick ’em?

DARNELLE: I know but they say…

WYATT: Ipod nano can I pick ’em.

DARNELLE: I was skeptical.

WYATT: You were skeptical! Ipod nano.

DARNELLE: I thought they said not to steal near where you live.

WYATT: Like a sitting duck. Did I not say. I saw this car sitting here like a sitting duck.

DARNELLE: I thought they said not to steal near where you live.

WYATT: Ipod nano. You live three blocks over. Ipod nano.

DARNELLE: A black one, too. Aren’t those harder to get?

WYATT: With the current gen, yeah. Now you can only get a black one if you get the 8 gig model. This is last-gen though. See the scratches?

DARNELLE: Oh. Yeah. Eek.

WYATT: Scratches like a bitch.

DARNELLE: So it’s more expensive to get the black ones now.

[ed.: Yes.]

WYATT: Inscription on the back here…

DARNELLE: What’s it say.

WYATT: kfan. What the hell is a kfan.

[ed.: The nickname of the person who owns the ipod they are stealing, the car they broke into, and the house whose driveway the car is parked in.]

DARNELLE: Dunno. Maybe it’s what he named the ipod or something.

WYATT: Ipod nano! Anyways what do you got over there.


WYATT: What ones though.

DARNELLE: Mix-cds, not real ones.

WYATT: Yeah but what’s on them.

DARNELLE: This one’s got Arcade Fire, Talking Heads. Wolf Parade.

WYATT: Hey Mister ipod kfan is a hipster, I guess.

[ed.: The CD in question was his partner’s. The ipod owner did not NEED mix CDs because he owned a FUCKING IPOD.]

DARNELLE: Well, I’ll take it, right?

WYATT: What else you got there.

DARNELLE: Another mix tape. Says…

WYATT: What’s on it.

DARNELLE: Dunno. It says..Orifex.

WYATT: Orifex? Jesus, kfan, orifex. Did we break into a car on the fucking moon or some shit?


WYATT: Ha ha, right?


WYATT: So what’s an Orifex, is that a band?

DARNELLE: I don’t know, no tracks listed.

[ed.: Orifex is the electronica side project of Josh Allen, noted blogger and author, and it is not to be sniffed at.]

WYATT: You gonna keep it?

DARNELLE: I don’t know, Orifex?

WYATT: The case is kinda cool.

DARNELLE: Yeah, still. You know I’m just going to throw it out as soon as I get home.

WYATT: But why not add insult to injury. Steal his CDs and then not even listen to them.

DARNELLE: Yeah but does it add insult if he doesn’t know about it.

WYATT [after a beat]: New plan.

DARNELLE: I’m ready.

WYATT: Leave the Orifex.

DARNELLE: You’re saying leave the Orifex CD in the car.

WYATT: Leave the Orifex in the car.

DARNELLE: But I don’t…


DARNELLE: Uh! Ha ha!

WYATT: Ha ha, right? You get it?


WYATT: “Thanks for the [looks at the back of the ipod] kfan ipod, here’s what we think of your Orifux, asshole.


WYATT: Classic.

DARNELLE: We should piss on the seats, too.


DARNELLE: What? Don’t look at me like that. What.

WYATT: What is it with you and pissing on the seats.

DARNELLE: Don’t give me that.

WYATT: Every time we break into a car, you bring up this pissing on the seats shit. What is that?


WYATT: Get out of the car. Move. Go.

DARNELLE: Insult to injury, I thought. You said.


Exeunt & Fin.