Reality Show

REALITY SHOW

CAST

SOMEONE
ANNOUNCER
CORRESPONDENT
MAID
FAN

There is a roar of a car engine. An ominous male laughter is heard. Searching through multiple radio stations, it stops at the last verse of "Psycho Killer" by Talking Heads. SOMEONE’s voice sings along with the song. The music stops as SOMEONE surfs the radio waves once more. A pleasant female voice reads an announcement.

ANNOUNCER: The picturesque suburb of Las Vegas, Henderson, was shocked by an impossibly cruel murder. A suitcase with a woman's corpse was found in a garbage container near one of the roadside motels. The remains turned out to be so mutilated that it is not yet possible to identify the victim. Listen to our correspondent's report from the crime scene...

The correspondent's voice sometimes drowns in the noises of the street: the roar of cars rushing along the highway, the sound of horns and police sirens, the hum of the voices of eyewitnesses in the background.

CORRESPONDENT: According to the only witness – the manager of the motel where the dismembered body was found – at three o'clock in the morning, a Mercedes-Benz drove into an empty parking lot and stopped by the tanks in a dark corner of the backyard. The fact that the expensive car was parked near the dumpsters, and not closer to the entrance, seemed somewhat unusual to the manager. However, the unknown person, who ended up not renting a room, soon left, and nobody checked their suspicions before the arrival of the garbage collectors. An investigation is ongoing.

ANNOUNCER: Now the weather forecast...

The radio turns off abruptly. Sardonic laughter is heard again.

SOMEONE: I’ll be damned if they find me! The hell that I spent three bloody hours with that slut: tore her well-groomed hair from their roots, flattened her nails with a hammer, and ripped her pearly teeth out with pliers. How great I went off on her! Yes, those cretins have to thank me that I rid this stinking world of a lying whore!

The roar of the engine dies down.

* * *
The sound of approaching footsteps is heard and a soft metallic tinkling follows. A key being turned in a keyhole is heard. Creak. The door slams shut. The TV turns on. There is a change of several channels.

ANNOUNCER: According to the producer of the most popular reality show in America “SHE WANTS HIS $”, multibillionaire Jack Hope said that his wife – famous model Jasmine Hope (maiden name – Trunk), disappeared yesterday without a trace. In more detail, our correspondent's special report...

CORRESPONDENT: According to her unconsolable husband, Mrs. Hope has not yet returned home. The last time a servant saw the lady getting into her Porsche (convertible) at six o'clock in the evening. The car was found abandoned this morning, five miles from the Hope's country penthouse, with the engine running. In the brief interview to the Daily News, Mr. Hope stated that he is willing to give a generous reward to anyone who has any information about his wife.

ANNOUNCER: Now - briefly about the weather...

The volume of the TV is gradually lowered and remains only in the background. The sound of the bottle being opened and the gurgling of the pouring liquid are heard. The man sips and sighs with relief.

SOMEONE: I'm above suspicion. The dumb-headed pigs would never figure it out. I've been tracking this bitch for the past three months. I thought everything through to the tiniest detail. Yes, this murder will take its rightful place among the unsolved crimes.

A sound of a lighter clicks. SOMEONE lights a cigarette.

SOMEONE: And what did the insatiable doll find in this lousy millionaire Flashhacker? What was she missing? The American aristocracy! Big fucking deal! Now his ancient surname shall shine, as symbolically as it gets, in the light of his dead mistress cut into pieces.

A theatrical, mocking laugh merges with a deafening guitar passage from "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap" by AC / DC. Sudden silence.

* * *

Birds sing. SOMEONE yawns loudly. There is a sound of liquid being poured. The news channel begins to play on the TV.

ANNOUNER: New facts have emerged in the case of the unknown corpse found in Henderson, Nevada. Our correspondent from Henderson ...

CORRESPONDENT: An autopsy showed that the victim had breast implants, the serial number of which helped the police identify the body. She turned out to be the leading model of the American women's magazine "Contours", Jasmine Hope.

SOMEONE: What the fuck? Whorish bitch! Even here she managed to cheat me! Damn it all to fucking hell!!!

The sound of a glass smashing against the wall.

CORRESPONDENT: new circumstances in the case of the brutally murdered top model have raised serious questions from the investigation for her husband, Mr. Hope, whose unexpected disappearance only strengthened the authorities in suspicion of the multibillionaire's involvement in the atrocity. From being the witness, he now becomes the primary suspect. A warrant for his arrest has already been issued. The search for the fugitive is organized.

ANNOUNCER: Heavy cloud cover is expected tomorrow ...

A crash from something heavy hitting against the TV screen is heard, followed by the crackling of the TV short circuiting. SOMEONE growls angrily.

SOMEONE: shut the fuck up! I’ll gouge out your electronic brains the same way I let that vile cunt’s guts paint the floor.

The noise of frantic pacing around the room.

SOMEONE: I refuse to believe they’ll catch me in this god forsaken shithole? No, I won't let them take me alive! I ain’t gonna rot in some jail sell because of this slut! There’s not any decent rope in this bedbug infested motel, damned! The belt! It should take care of it all!

There is a careful knock at the door.

SOMEONE: (In a whisper). Oh shit! They’ve found my room already. (Shouts). I'll meet you in hell, my darling-hrrrk...

Choked wheezing. Long pause. The knock at the door becomes more insistent.

MAID: Sir, I am sorry to bother you, but your neighbors are complaining that your TV is too loud. They also heard strange noises... Sir, are you all right? Can you hear me, sir?! I am opening the door with a spare key...

MAID fiddles with a key in the keyhole.

MAID: I was sent to make sure... (Shouts). A-ah-ah !!! Santa Madre de Dios! Se ahorc;! He hung himself!

Silence.

* * *
The metallic sound of a music box is heard playing the melody of "Happy Birthday", which is gradually echoed by a chorus of discordant voices. Cheerful laughter and hooting continues. With the sound of the candles being blowing out, the chanting stops abruptly.

FAN: Dear triple six news channel! My wife and I are big fans of reality shows, but what you’ve gifted us with is beyond belief! Thank you for your unforgettable present! The night of Mrs. Hope's murder was my birthday. It was awesome! My stomach still clenches when I imagine that while a dozen mouths were shouting "Happy B-day”, three dozens candles were being blown out and one by one pieces of an enormous birthday cake were being devoured, somewhere in Las Vegas... you know... My wife' birthday is next month – could you kindly prepare a surprise for her, too: something even more extraordinary? Thank you in advance for your great work. The warmest regards from the Newman family.