[SCENE: A dining room. Six people are seated around the table, which is adorned with unlit candles and a vase of wilted flowers in preparation for a dinner party. HARRY and BETTY stand in the doorway; BETTY wears grotesquely ugly horn-rimmed glasses and carries a plastic purse.]

HARRY: [grasps his lapels and inflates his chest self-importantly] I suppose you'll all wondering why I called you here tonight. First, I must ask you to remain calm for what I am about to tell you. Do not leave your seats. Do not make any sudden moves. For someone in this room...is a murderer!

BETTY: Oh, Harry, stop it! [turns to diners, apologetically] I'm sorry, he does this everywhere we go. [to Harry, smacking him with her tacky purse] And you wonder why we don't get invited out more often!

[HARRY opens his mouth to speak, when suddenly the lights go out. Everyone screams. There is a thump. There are gunshots. There is an explosion. A horse neighs. There are sounds of a railroad locomotive. Richard Nixon says 'I am not a crook'. A rocket blasts off. A car engine dies. A violin string breaks. Sounds of jackhammers. There is a wheezing, groaning sound. The lights come up, to reveal HARRY lying dead in the doorway, a four-foot-long cardboard butcher's knife embedded in his chest, liberally painted red with blood.]

BETTY: Oops.

[Lights out!]

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©2000 Luke Gutzwiller. I really mean it.