Author's note: Here is a play started a year ago but have had to put it on the back burner for a while. This is just a small piece of it. Some language might be considered offensive until it is kept in the context of the story and the characters. There is no racism intended only an honest look at some characters who are still around.

Scene One
Act One

It is late September in New York City. Two long time locals sit in a bar in down town Manhattan. Inside sawdust still covers a splintering wood floor from the time prohibition and penny bars. The light is dim and came from hanging lamps over each table and one over the bar. Over the bar itself was a string with chicken bones from the First World War. As the story goes, a group of soldiers agreed to stick the remains of their chicken dinner on the line and those who made it home would come in to collect their bone. For the others, the bones would be come a kind of putrid memorial. There are about 23 still hanging on the line. On the wall opposite side of the room are black and white photographs of the place at the turn on the 20th century when wooden barrels still littered the cobble stone streets, which now can only be found in some parts of the city but for the most part has given way to pavement. The air has a gray dust smell, which often makes one's nose run.
The taller of the two locals, Sam, is wearing a long trench coat battered by too many falls and winters. He is a former door-to-door political organizer who traveled the country in an effort bringing ironworkers together to fight for the eight-hour day. Like many of those he had worked with in the past, he has a large build, like that of a former coal minor. He wares a derby, which covers his long white hair, which hangs along the sides of an otherwise bald scalp.
The shorter of the two, Stanly sits slightly hunched over, with sunken eyes and protruding cheekbones. His pea coat hangs off his frame, giving him the appearance of an old world scarecrow. He had lived most of his life in the area, working as a writer and a journalist for papers and magazines, which have long closed their doors. His thin white hair can't hide the bald patches, which come from age and three nervous breakdowns.
In front of them are two empty bottles and two others barely touched. Sam suddenly states without warning "You know I remember the first time with every woman I've ever been with, me. You see that's because it's all about anticipation then, you wonder what she looks like naked and what she likes to do. I tell you I've been with some real wild one's in my day. I once had this red headed waitress who spoke in a little girl's voice, turned my mind sideways. I had to stop. She asked me what the matter was. What was she kidding, who in their right mind wants to make it with some woman who speaks like a goddam child when you two are in bed together? I tell ya I was going after this woman for a full month before she ever noticed me, beautiful woman, long flowing red hair, muscular legs, round ass. But it was waiting for her to come out of the bathroom while I was in her bed. I was scared like a schoolboy. Christ what the hell is wrong with me."
Stanly "So what are you talking about? What kind of story is this? Anticipation about how some broad you want to make it with, that's for amateurs. Kid's worry about that kind of bullshit. I tell you it's about what comes down the road. Where is that red head today? Probably off with some former insurance salesman, broke from this or that habit. Two or three kids stealing her beauty. Christ, you know what's on the other end of waiting for any woman you want to sleep with to come out of the bathroom? Cleaning up and going to work the next morning. The other side of sex is the rest of your life. It's only a moment in time Sam, a moment in time. My marriage was a moment in time; she now lives some where out on the Island with some cop. Where is the life in that?"
(He takes a drink from his beer.)
Sam "The first time you wait for her to take off her blouse to see what's underneath, you're like a child on Christmas morning. You don’t exactly know what is waiting for you but you do know it will be something special, that's what I mean. Then is waiting for her to breathe those deep breaths and then is the moments of discovery. The future is death, if that's all you wait for. Who cares where that redhead is now? What do you think, I was going to marry the broad. The important thing is that I know how her body shivered when I gently moved my hand along her tender side. I know what her nipples looked like when they stiffed. And finally I remember what she looked like when she bit her lip when she came." (He takes a quick sip off his beer.) "And beside, the other side of anything is the rest of your life but it's how you want to fill your time. I remember going to Long Island when I was still working, I think was in the late 70s. I'd go into any bar back in those days and all I'd find are a bunch of broken down drunks, talking about the good ol' days. They'd talk about this or that friend who died from cocaine or cancer. Or they would go on about some goddam trip they took twelve years earlier. Nothing good will ever happen to these people again poor bastards."
(Stanly cut off a piece of Limburger cheese sitting in front of them.) "You’re a romantic Sam, those drunks that you talk about, they're in those bars 'cause they realized that their rides had to come to an end, they had to. Where else are they going to go? They're stuck. Their wives are probably bored out of their minds and cheating on their husbands, see that's where living in the moment gets you. No plans, no nothing. Just sitting there doing nothing.
Both men sit quietly for some time finishing off their beers. The only other customers which were in the bar step outside for a smoke. The bartender picks up a news paper to read the stats from the ball game from the night before.
Sam: I don't accept this eye toward the grave attitude that you've adopted lately, since Rose left you. I know you writers have a fatalist view of things but Christ sometimes you sound like one of those executives about to face the chopping block because you didn't close this or that deal. This is what you sound like. I'm surprised that you're not on some kind of high blood pressure medication with how much you worry about what's waiting for you around every corner. I'd swear that you were one of those nut case preachers in Time Square screaming about god and the end of the world.
Stanly: Careful Sam don't get personal. You know, you remind me of one of those Jesus fanatics who hang out over by 42nd street, 'take no thought for the morrow', they say. This is the thinking of children, handing yourself over to chance. You know, we wake up one morning and realize that those squares we made fun of as kids were right. They actually had a vision for their future. Unlike us, they don't live in single rooms having to share a bathroom with a drunk, fat Puerto Rican who vomits in the bathtub.
Sam: Yes, but their up to their eyeballs in debt. And my god I've never met more paranoid people in my life. I use sit across from some of these ceos at the negociating table and you could see it in their eyes. They really believe that everyone around them are out to rob them blind. They believed we were nothing more than parasites looking to take everything they had. I found out later that they would numb themselves with expensive liqueur and cheap thrills. I remember reading in the paper one day that the head of Dandy pipes and plumbing had been arrested for being with a boy prostitute, kid was 15 the paper said. I sat at the same table with this man and his $3000 dollar suit, to guarantee his workers a real pay raise and force his hand in allowing his workers to unionize. He had that suspicious look in his face during our entire interview. And don't tell me that he is the exception I can't listen to the news these days without hearing about one of these crooks stealing from the company.
(Both men sit silently once again)
Sam: Did I ever tell you about "Lights out Bernie"?
Stanly: Yes, several times in fact.
Sam: Well you're going to hear it again. Bernie was a journeyman fighter, who knew that he would never get a chance at the heavy weight title. He had already fought too many fights, his ears were always ringing. He was going blind in one eye from taking too many shots and he had arthritis in both hands. But what made him so dangerous was that he had this lightning fast left hook which if it connected you were out, that's it Charlie.
(clearing his throat)
So his last fight was a ten rounder and he was determined not to lose. He was going up against this huge black kid out of Chicago, who was supposed to be the next big thing at the time. He towered over Bernie, you understand. Now Bernie was like 6'1" 210 pounds at the time. But this kid was a monster, 6'6" 230 pounds they say. He was supposed to be the sure thing. So the fight starts and Bernie does like he always does dancing around trying to get past this kids punches but this guy is just too strong. First round he gets knocked down. Second round he is almost knocked out of the ring. And when Bernie finally did manage to get inside and land some shots of his own, it was like they didn't do anything.
But it was right after the 7th round, Bernie sat there beaten and bloodied, his corner wanted to stop the fight but Bernie wouldn’t let them. It was then that he looked over to the other corner. The kid's jaw was gaping even after his corner placed his mouth piece back in. Now if a fighter is still fresh his bottom jaw clinches around the mouth piece. So the bell rings and before the kid knows what's happening, Bernie lands one of those lightning fast left hooks of his, right on the button. And the kid is thrown against the ropes and then falls to one knee. For the first time he was hurt and hurt bad. When he got back up, Bernie landed a right hook followed by a short left. When the young fellow tried to fight back it was like the grace of god that Bernie ducked under the punch, the first time he was able to do that in years. So then Bernie landed five or six body shots before launching the most vicious upper cut that I've ever seen. It lifted the kid off his feet. The young man from Chicago landed on his knees before collapsing flat on his face.
Everyone in the place knew the fight was over. Bernie told me later that as he stood in the corner waiting for the count that no matter what happened after the fight he was going out on top in his mind. I later asked him how he knew he was going to beat the kid. Bernie said that he knew that the other fighter had his mind on the next fight, his heart just wasn't in it. So Bernie knew he had him.


You see, it’s the details, the kid tired in his corner and was probably surprised that the fight went on as long as it did. He was supposed to have been the next champ, beating Ali or Frazier or Foreman or Norton, but after that night, he never made it to the top ten. He was blind sided by a punch he never expected.
Stanly: Yeah that's a good story, a great one in fact. But tell me, where is Bernie now? I heard from some sports writer friends from the New York Eye days, that he could hardly remember his own name. 60 fights and ten loses they say, his brains are scrambled. He had to spend god knows how many nights in the Tombs, last time he was booked, it was knocking out a waiter who spilled water on his new shirt. Want another round?
Sam nods and Stanly gets up and heads to the bar. The group who stepped outside for a smoke come back in and sit down at their table. A couple enter the bar as well sitting two table away.
Stanley: You keep bringing up my marriage, so you want to talk about hu. It taught me never to pick up on broads at the cross town bus stop. I was not in my right mind of coarse. As you know I was covering the race riots earlier in the day. By the time I got down town and everything was taken care of, my hands were still shaking. I tried lighting a cigarette at the bus stop but I just couldn't get my hand steady. Without my asking, she grabbed my hand and helped me light the damn thing. Shortly after that, she started chatting me up. Funny thing was, I didn't see her walk up to me. It was it like she was ghost. Not a bad looking broad back then. She was brunette, before she started dying her hair. She was thin her skin then her skin had the pale look of ivory it before she started taking those frequent trips to Florida. And she had a small cluster of freckles around her nose which grew into one big splotch from all the damn sun. Even then, I should have known that something was up with her, she had a look in her eyes. It was like a killer standing over her victim. And her smile seemed strangely out of place, Christ, I think about it now, and I should have known.


It's hard to believe that just a few hours earlier I was in the middle that what looked like a goddam battle scene. No sooner did my cameraman I get off one the few running trains that went up there; We were met by this noise, sounded like a war zone. The first thing I see was black kids bashing some cop’s head with a metal pipe and a garbage can. Poor bastard is bleeding from the ears, eyes and nose. He curled up trying to cover himself up, but they just keeping beating on him, horrible scene, just horrible. About three blocks some store fronts were smashed and some were burning. I saw tenement buildings in flames, the black smoke was so thick, and you couldn’t see the top of the buildings. And right there in the middle of the streets, among the overturned cars and burning tires, a father or grandfather, I couldn’t tell but he was standing there with tears streaming down his cheeks. In his arms was the limp body of a dead child. I have been to Vietnam and Cambodia but this really kicked my ass. Then the whirling of a helicopter churned all the garbage and smoke and shit all over the place. What sounded like a fire work echoed. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a red flash. I turned my head to see that one of those kids who was beating the cop was now face down on the sidewalk. Half of his head had been blown off. His friends took off in different directions. Some of the locals ran down the street with televisions on their shoulders or in a shopping cart and one guy and his family just stood there stone faced as they watched their building burn. My cameraman kept buzzing around like a goddam fruit fly taken pictures. Me, I was carrying a recorder with a microphone. I was in luck, a rumble between two gangs had broken out in the middle of the street. Switch blades and bike chains glistened from the afternoon sunlight. I was able to get close enough to record the action. Boy, if you were a reporter in those days scenes like this was better than sex. But I guess we lost track of where we were because two hollow shots could just barely be heard and our of no where, teargas canisters exploded into a crowd of rioters who were coming down the street with baseball bats and chains hanging out of their hands. Police cruisers speed from every street in the area along with the swat team. Gun shots echoed all around us. Without having to see anymore, I grabbed my cameraman and we raced down the stars to the subway, luckily, there was a down town 6 train just pulling in. We hoped on and after a minute we were on our way through the tunnel. The images just kept flashing in my head. My cameraman however seemed excited and kept on yakking a blue streak As we crossed the bridge, we looked out the window and saw the red glow over the borough, Borealis had made a home in the Bronx.

So as you can see I was not exactly thinking straight when she asked me to dinner as the bus pulled up. I felt what the hell, I'll take a chance. Hey we had some good years early on. Just would read my articles before I put them in envelopes. I also fell in love the way she would talk about simple things, like cats and her dreams of being a mother. But then oh Christ oh mighty she started her crying jigs after sex. Then was all of this talk about suicide. I didn’t know if I was her husband or her goddam therapist. And 10 years later, I over hear her talking her best friend from somewhere, telling her that she was falling for that fucking cop. Sure we had our rough years. Hell, maybe a plate or two were thrown across the room. But I should have known at the bus stop she had that look in her eyes, of a beaten dog that was one bad day away from tearing apart her owner.
Sam: I'm going out for a cigarette.
The two men walk outside and meet a wind that is just starting up. The light is a pre-storm gray. The temperature is cooler then when they first walked into the bar. Both men pull their collars around their necks. Sam had to cup his hand over the flame of a match while they lit their cigarettes.
Sam: You’re too easily snake bit. That was always your problem. You keep building for something, or looking to the future for some reason. Tell me, what the hell do you see in the distance? It all ends the same way. Look you were taken off guard when you met your wife and as you say yourself you had some good years. Be grateful, why don’tcha?
Before Stanley can answer, they spot Otto, an old time friend walking up the sidewalk. Otto, is a former exterminator who likes to tell those who are willing to listen that he holds the record for most roaches killed in a single visit. No one has ever challenged him on the claim despite the growing number of vermin every time he tells the story.
Otto: I tell ya it was 500 or maybe 600 hundred yea, yea it was 600. Oh boy, when sprayed the powder behind the stove and the fridge and behind the countars, the little bastards came runnin out trying to make it to the door or the holes in the wall but none of them made it. They al flipped over on their backs before they could make the great escape. Man it was something.
Age had taken all of his hair and most of his teeth. He chose never to wear dentures, he had more teeth on one side of his mouth than the other which gave him a crooked smile. He is wearing a long hound's tooth coat with large holes from years of moth infestations. He is scratching his arm then his neck and face as he walks up to Sam and Stanley.
Stanley: What’s with all of this scratching?
Otto: Goddam bedbugs, everyone in my building seems to have them. They started to come in when that scumbag landlord of mine started bringing in those fucking tourists. All those krauts, and heeb bastards bring them every damn place in their clothes and luggage. You’d think the city would fumigate these assholes. Holly Jesus I'm being eaten alive. I can't go home now until the exterminator shows up. Imagine that I worked 35 years in the business and now I'm calling someone to take care of the problem. And the schmucks they have today. They spray like blind epileptics in the middle of a fit. Back when I was doin it, it was an art. Now no one gives a shit.
Sam: so where you staying now?
Otto: At my son's over on Astor place. I'm lucky he didn't marry or have kids. His place is small. Goddam bathroom is right near my bed. It's one of those pull out jobs. But its comfortable.

Sam: I tellya you're in rare form today. You're like Stanley over here when he's in a good mood. (Sam lets out a small laugh).

Stanly: hmph.
Otto: Well there is something else. Oh Jeez I guess I can tell you, my God I was hoping that I wouldn't have to mention it to anyone.

Stanley and Sam: What, Goddamit?

Otto: Let's go around the corner to the park, these walls have ears.

Stanley and Sam dropped their cigarettes, crushing the butts under their heels before taking off to the park. When the three men reach the park, there is a row of empty benches along the North eastern corner of the park.

Gasping for air from the speed of the walk, Stanley: are you going to tell us or not.

Otto: You boys know that drug deal'n Santoria son of a bitch who lived my building? The big nigger with the hookers coming in and out of his apartment all hours of the night?

Sam: Yeah sure, we've heard you bitch about him. You said he brings these junkies to your section at 2 in the morning so they can shoot up in your bathroom down the hall. What about him?

Otto: Well I've told him if I see these pieces of shit in my hall one more time I was callin' the cops. Of course he threatens me, sayin some goon is going to break my legs or take me out or some damn thing. In either case, this morning I had to go to my room to pick up some clothes by the door. So I walk up to my section two burn-outs come stumblin' out the door, cooked out of their minds. Somehow they were able to catch the elevator before the door closed. I had just had it.

So I see him just standin' in the hallway, right? So I yell at him 'Hey! What'd I tell you asshole?' He turns to me and says 'who do you think your talken to white boy?' So this fuckin' gorilla comes charging at me with his goddamn cane and without thinking I grabbed this heavy lamp that was on the table in the hall and cracked it over his head before he could throw a punch. He goes down, blood gushing out of his mouth, ears and nose, right. Face down. I turned him over and put my ear to his chest and nothin'. No heart beat. So I took the lamp to the bathroom and washed it off as fast as I could. My neighbor Loretta came walking in the section just as I was pluggin' in the lamp. She took one look at the body and then turned to me.

Sam: So what did you do?

Otto: I blamed the whole thing on those two human cockroaches who were in my section. But I don't think she heard me she was too busy screaming and praying to Jesus for Christ sakes. I helped her back to her room. Then I think she blacked out because her eyes went blank and the screaming stopped. I laid her on the bed. Her breathing was violent. Before anyone else could finger me for this murder I took off.

Otto buries his face in his hands, shaking his head.

Stanley: Oh for shit's sake Otto you really screwed up big here.

Sam: Hey does your son know what happened? Maybe he could help you out. You can't just wander the streets, its getting' nasty and cold here.

Otto having lifted his head: No of course I didn't tell him. I can't get him involved. And now I'm sure the police are looking for me, if Loretta ever comes around. Oh dammit.

The three men sat in silence until Stanley jumps up. "Hey do you two have a quarter?" Sam reaches into his pocked and pulls a hand full of change and hands it to him.

Sam: Here you go. Where are you going?

Stanley: I'll be right back. Christ where do you think I'm going?

Otto: hey what the hell's goin' on??”

Otto lifts one of his pant's legs and starts scratching madly, followed by his neck, face and arms.

Stanley disappears around the corner.

Otto: Chirst the last time I hada deal with bugs bites like this was when we saved that mantis 20 sumntin years ago. Tried to get her off that gate in fronta that store. You remember? Little bitch bit me good. Who the hell knew that they bit so hard. Then she flew on that broad’s dress. O’man she started screamen like she was being shocked.


Sam: (laughing) Yea I remember. You grabbed that plastic bag from the garbage and grabbed it off that woman’s dress. It was wild watching you running down 63rd street with that bug in the bag, to Central Park to dump her over there.

Otto: Incredible, I spent my days killen these goddam bugs and there I was hallen ass down the street trying to save the only one who ever bit me like that. Just incredible,

The lights slowly go out on Sam and Otto. When they come back on, Stanley is at a payphone calling his ex-wife. On the third ring Stanley's wife answers the call.

Anne: Hello

Stanley: Hey Anne, how are you this is Stanley? Its been a dog's age since we've spoken last.

Anne: Fine, why are you calling? What do you want from me?

Stanley, I just wanted to speak to an old friend, you know. I've missed speaking to you for some time. I was think'n about you lately. How are you feelin.

Anne: Great, my marriage is falling apart, I'm sure you'll get a kick out of that cause he was the one I was cheating on you with. God, I'm sucha jerk, everyone thinks I'm an asshole, thinking I'm going to take care of them. That son-of-a-bitch husband of mine is cheating on me now. I had an itching this morning, it was really burning me. I know I haven't been sleeping around. God must really be punishing me boy. I don't know why I'm telling you. I'm sorry, how are you?

Stanley: I'm fine, just been spending time talking with Sam. I'm sorry to hear things are so terrible for you these days. Believe it or not I really don't hold any ill feelings for you. I assure you that bitterness died years ago.

Anne: Your not a very good liar but apperate it anyway. How's Sam.

Stanley: Same you know? Not much really changes with him. Same old romantic he has always been. But listen I need to ask for a favor.

Anne: I knew it! Everyone always wants something, what is it, I'm not giving you any money besides I don't have any and Richard isn't home so your out of luck.

Stanley: No! Will you shut up goddamit! I need your help! You always did this, just shooting off at the mouth without bothering to listen! (He suddenly realizes that a continued onslaught of yelling would kill any chances he would have of getting Otto held up, out of the city and from harm's way.) Look I'm sorry.

Anne: Yea I hope so if you need any favors from me. What is it same, it better be good.

Stanley: Look, I have a friend who needs to get out of town for a few days. I figured he could stay in an extra room or somethin. We don't have any money for a hotel out there on the island. It would only be a few days like I said you know?

Anne: Are you out of your fucking mind? What would Richard say? He would never go for it and I don't think it would be a good idea. You know you have a real nerve calling me asking me for a favor like this after we haven't talk spoken to in years. Don't ever call me again.

Stanley: I wouldn’t have called you if it was not so damn…

Operator: please deposit 25 cents for the next three minutes.

Stanley: Shit not now.

He drops in the last of his change.

Stanley: I need some help here! I'm out of options already, I don’t need any of your goddam hassles! If you want I can speak to Richard or what ever the hell is name is for Christ sakes! I'd rather chew glass but what chose do freggin have here?!

Silence breaks out over the phone.

Anne: Yea that's all I'd need is you two yelling at each other over the fucking phone. Look don't bullshit me and don't think your going to take me for an asshole! I don’t owe you any Goddam favors so don't try to guilt me with your shit. I can't believe I'm going to do this! I have a room upstairs I've been looking to rent, I'll tell Richard I found a tenant. But you better here this, if there is any problems I'm going to hold you responsible. I am not going to cover for you if the police or anyone else shows up at my door. You here me?

The lights fade out. And over a crowd an announcer can be heard.

"This is the last call for Port Washington. Stand clear of the closing door please."



Scene 2

Act 1

The police and EMS workers are walking around Ray's body which is laying a pool of coagulated blood. A junkie who walks in unexpectedly is arrested as a suspect before he can turn around and run off.

Cop 1: Where do you think your going asshole? We gotta ask you a few questions over heah.

The cop coughs then spits the putrid taste that came from the smell of decaying flesh.
One reporter leaves the section to vomit.

The Junkie: I don't know nothing here. I just came up here to speak with Ray. I don’t know man, I'm cool. Look man I'm sick just let me go.

Cop1: Yea I'll let you go - right into a cell if you don't tell me what I want to know. If you want to make this difficult, we could always lose your paperwork, forget we have you, maybe five or six days, you follow me? So who would want to kill this piece of shit?

Junkie: (In tears with thick lines sickness running down his nose and the sides of his mouth) I tellya man I don't know! Just let me go!

A second cop grabs the suspect by the arm and the two officers drag the junkie out the door. Loud thuds can be heard through the door along with loud screams.

Two detectives are questioning Otto's Brazilian neighbor who has recovered from shock well enough to speak. She has a small piece of cloth around her nose and mouth to as the smell of the corpse buildings up in the hallway. She is still shaking from fear not only of the police but she has a hatred of bugs. Several large flies are buzzing around Ray's corpse and some are crawling in and out of his nostrils. The neighbor watches carefully that none of the insects find their way into her room.

Detective one: So you say it was your neighbor who cracked this guy with the lamp over there. Did you see him actually strike gentleman?

BN: Si, I know it was him, I saw him putting plug back into the wall. I walk in and see him putting the plug in the wall. They don't like each other. Always fighting. No good.

Detective 2( he spits on the floor to get the taste of the smell out of his mouth.): So what is your neighbors name, give us a name.

BN: His name is Otto. He was always very nice to me. Very good, I can't believe he would do this, horrible thing. I think he has bit of the devil in him though.

Detective 1: Does he have a son or anyone he knows who lives around here.

Detective2 (giving his partner a quick wink):Don't bullshit us we have I.C.E on the speed dial.

BN: No, no I know bullshit he has a son who lives een midtown I tink 73rd or something. Hee's last name is Berger. Look on his mail slot it there, 411.

The lights slowly go down as two EMS workers lift the body and put it on a stretcher and the reporter comes back in wiping the vomit off his bottom lip.



Scene3

Act1



Jim Backer, (Cop 1) has been passed seven times by the FBI when brought in new detectives, something that has driven him to the point of deep and unrelenting bitterness. He had long been known for his erratic mood swings which got down right violent at times. One moment, he would drinking with the others from his precinct during the grand times but within minutes fall too tears with his gun pointed at the bartender, often crying that his father never gave him a chance to be anything but a bum. Often, He would find himself in Saint Luke’s Psychic ward or South Oak’s out on Long Island. He his eyes still shot from one direction to another like frantic fruit flies. Had it not been for his father who was once sergeant at the station, he would have been discharged years earlier. He has given up every oath he had taken since the swearing ceremony of his rookie year. Backer is now on every New York City landlord’s payroll and often looks the other way when their staff assaults a tenant or breaks into their apartment. He also moonlights as an informant for some of the City’s most notorious drug dealers. He also took to shaking down prostitute for 40% of everything they take in pre-night.

The section is empty when the lights come back on. Backer comes walking in the door screaming that he had left something behind and that he will be right out. After the door slams shut, Backer slips a cell phone from his breast pocket.

Backer: Yea getme Vinnie. Don't give me your bullshit, just getme your boss… ( a pause.)

Backer: Hey Vinnie, this is Jimmy, looks like someone knocked off your boy Ray. Yea one of his neighbors, some Otto Breger character. Looks like he high-tailed it outta here. Used a lamp in the hallway. Shit when I got here, he blood wasn't even flown no more. Just I thought I'd let you know, don't come cheap though. I'm a cop you know, well respected… Yea well fuck you, don't tell me what hospital I been too. (Left eye begins to twitch) I'll find him before any of yous… Hey if I find anything out, I know your number.

Backer (speaking to self): I'll show them, Jim Baker is no one's schmuck anymore. I'll find this creep, before any of those dope heads, burnouts and jerkoffs at the station know what's goin on. I lived in darkness my whole life. You need to know how to see in the dark, like a good hunter or trained dog I'll find him.


Screen fades to black.