User:Tkotse/Current Articles/UnScripts:The Number 23
23[edit | edit source]
Scene One[edit | edit source]
(A man enters a small office. He is visibly nervous, and is thumbing (not that kind of thumbing) a used hankerchief. A man in a suit behind the desk gestures at the man to sit down. The placard on his desk reads: "Arthur P. Proctor".)
Proctor: Ahh, Mr. Winslow, please sit down.
Winslow: Errm, thanks.
(Winslow awkwardly sits down in the chair and makes himself comfortable.)
Proctor: Now, you have come to claim the insurance you put upon your house.
Winslow: (Wiping his brow) I have.
(Audible silence)
Proctor: Mr. Winslow, you took this insurance out yesterday.
Winslow: I did, yes.
Proctor: Not only that, you took out the largest pay out claim this firm has to offer.
Winslow: (Smiling) Well, I trust this firm!
(Winslow looks pleased with himself. After several seconds of silence, he looks less pleased.)
Proctor: Mr. Winslow, I'm not going to lie to you. This is textbook insurance fraud.
Winslow: Pardon?
Proctor: When people take out insurance, just before an accident happens, usually it's just bad luck. When people take out insurance with a massive pay out, well, I see it as fraud.
Winslow: Excuse me?
Proctor: (Looking through legal papers) You say it was arson, correct?
Winslow: Ermm, yes.
Proctor: Well...
Winslow: But, I didn't tell you who did it!
Proctor: I don't think that matters...
Winslow: I know who did it!
Proctor: Look...
Winslow: 23!
(There then follows a long period (*snicker* period) of silence)
Proctor: Excuse me?
Winslow: 23 burned my house down!
Sorry what?[edit | edit source]
Proctor: Twenty...
Winslow: (Visibly excited) The number 23 burned my house down!
Proctor: I'm sorry, that's utter bullshit.
Winslow: No, it's the truth. 23 burned my house down!
Proctor: Mister Winslow, you're obviously...
Winslow: She burned my house down! She did! She did!
She?[edit | edit source]
Proctor: She?
Winslow: What?
Proctor: Mr. Winslow, numbers are not people. Didn't they teach you that in the institution?
Winslow: What are you suggesting?
Proctor: (Getting up from his chair) I'm suggesting you're fucking mental.
Winslow: (Also getting up from his chair) How dare you? I just burn...had my house down! (Under his breath) Shit.