Doctor Freud's Disciple
© 2003 by Sherwood Ross
Cast
Doctor Google, psychiatrist
Max Miller, his patient
Undertaker
Sets: Doctor Google's office and funeral parlor
Come in, Mister Miller, and congratulations on your eighty-first birthday.
Miller
Thanks, Doc.
Would you like to lie down on the couch today or sit in the chair?
Miller
Neither. No more sessions. I'm only here to say goodbye. (Beat) So, goodbye!
Goodbye? You're not quitting therapy, are you?
Miller
That's exactly what I am doing. Three times a week for twenty-two years is enough.
You can't quit now. We're just starting to make progress.
Miller
Wrong. Anybody who pays to see a shrink for twenty-two years is hopelessly nuts.
But pretty soon we'll have all your problems solved.
Miller
You already solved my problems. I used to get back pains raking my lawn. Since I sold my house to pay your bills, I don't have that problem.
You didn't need that house any more. Your children grew up.
Miller
I used to get speeding tickets. Since I sold my car to pay your bills, no more traffic court.
See how therapy works! Doesn't it feel good to be on the right side of the law? And didn't I get you out of that homeless shelter three years ago by letting you sleep on a fuoton in my garage?
Miller
Yeah, so you could cash my Social Security checks.
Well, I have to collect something before the system becomes insolvent.
Miller
Solvent or not, I ain't paying you another buck.
You can't not pay me. Sigmund Freud said
Voice of Sigmund Freud
(Booming from above.) Paying your therapist is vital to the recovery process.
Miller
(Looking up) That's right. The government sends me money and he recovers it. (To Google) Look, I can't pay because I've got terminal leukemia. I'm dying. Finished! The end! Kaput! Get it?
You can't die on me now when you still owe me for sixty back sessions plus interest. I won't hear of it.
Miller
So clean out your ears. I'm on my way to the undertaker right now to pick out my coffin. I seen a fine mahogany job for only sixteen thousand bucks.
Don't you dare spend all that money on a coffin before you pay off your arrears!
Miller
As for my arrears, you can kiss my ass!
Mister Miller! You don't want to die on the outs with Sigmund Freud!
Miller
Is Freud gonna meet me at
the Pearly Gates? With what, a portable couch? What's he gonna tell me, Lie
down over there, shmuck! We've been expecting you. I'm dancing to the
undertaker. (Miller starts for the door, Google after
him.)
Google
I won't let you die! (Miller runs out door, Google runs
out after him. Brief blackout. Scene shifts to street outside funeral parlor at
far right, interior of parlor, with coffins, at left. Miller is reaching for the
door with Google behind him.)
Stop him! Somebody! Police! Arrest that man! He wants to
kill himself before he's paid his bill!
(Miller enters the room filled with polished coffins.
Google is right behind him, struggling to catch his breath, doubled over, hands
on knees, panting.)
Miller
There's the one I like! Hooray! I'm gonna have a really
long session in there, free of charge!
(Miller climbs into the coffin and lies back, hands
behind head, with a huge sigh of relief. Google straightens up, goes over to
coffin, and tries to pull Miller out by one arm.)
Google
Get out of there, you dead beat! I'm gonna call every
credit agency and knock your credit rating to hell!
Miller
Good! I'll feel right at home there when I get
there.
Google
(Still tugging unsuccessfully at Miller's arm.)
I'll see to it the Devil sticks you
with his pitchfork!
Miller
So what? That was coming next, under the Patriot Act!
(Miller shuts lid of coffin over himself but Google
pulls it back open. Miller closes it again but Google pries it open
again!)
Will you let me die in peace,
already?
Google
(Holding lid open with a great effort.) Tell you what I am gonna do for you. Just pay half your
bill and I'll let you go straight to hell.
Miller
Strike me living if I will!
(Miller closes the lid; Google reopens
it.)
Google
Okay, just gimme twenty five cents on the
dollar.
Miller
Not a dime! And if you don't like it, I hope you come
after me for the money!
(Miller jumps out of the coffin, as though looking for
something. Google grabs Miller's shirt, which tears and begins to chase him
around the room.)
Google
Ten cents on the dollar. Not a penny
less.
(Miller sees a hammer and nails on a shelf, grabs them,
and hops back into the coffin, slamming the lid after him. We hear the sound of
hammering from inside the coffin. Google is trying to open it but cannot. Enter
the Undertaker from right.)
Undertaker
What's all the racket? (Assessing Google.) Sir,
you're all red in the face!
Google
I'm a psychiatrist. A patient of mine is in there trying
to hammer himself in.
Undertaker
Wonderful! That's the part of my job I always
hated!
Google
But he's still alive! Stop him, for God sakes, stop
him!
(The hammering continues. Google starts to jump up and
down.) I won't stand for it! He owes me
a fortune!
Voice of Doctor
Freud
(Booming) Let
one of your patients get away with it and pretty soon you can kiss your
sister-in-law goodbye!
Undertaker
Sir, you're turning purple! (Google suddenly grabs
his chest with both hands, collapses dead on the floor from a coronary. The
hammering stops. A moment of silence.)
Miller
(Popping open coffin lid, gleefully.) Is he dead?
Undertaker
I dunno, Max. I don't usually get fresh meat. (Beat)
Well, you said this is what it would take to kill the
bastard.
Miller
The nerve of the man! Did you hear him threatening my
credit rating? How low can any human being sink?
Undertaker
He'll find out Sunday when we bury him. We'll dig down
an extra six feet.
Miller
(Suddenly remorseful) Oh, God, what have I done? My closest friend for
twenty-two years, the man I gave all my money to so I wouldn't squander it on
loose women!
Undertaker
(Patting the coffin. ) Say, if you need a place to sleep tonight, you can feel
free to sack out here.
Miller
(Suddenly cheerful) No thanks. I'm sleeping in his bed tonight. This is the
first night in three years his wife won't have to visit me in the
garage!
Blackout
THIS SCRIPT IS COPYRIGHTED MATERIAL AND MAY NOT BE DOWNLOADED, TRANSMITTED, PRINTED OR PERFORMED WITHOUT THE EXPRESS PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR
Performed by Sherwood Ross, Seth Silverman, and Trent Westbrook. Stage directions read by Ursula Hull.
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