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THE AUDIT

By Stephen Bittrich

 

5701 W Slaughter Lane
Suite A130-204
Austin, TX 78749
Tel: (646) 245-4507
E-mail:
SBittrich@aol.com

 

Copyright © 2003,
by Stephen Bittrich
(Draft: April, 2003)

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                                   "THE AUDIT"

                                   BY STEPHEN BITTRICH


            SETTING:

                                   An office.

            AT RISE:

                                   Mr. SAPP sits behind the desk.  MR.
                                   SMITH enters with a video camera,
                                   capturing SAPP in his environment. 
                                   MRS. SMITH quickly follows with a
                                   television on a tall rolling cart.  The
                                   camera is hooked up to the television,
                                   so everything on the camera is live. A
                                   close up of SAPP fills the screen. 

                                   MR. SMITH
            Hello!

                                   SAPP
                          (Confused)
            Hello.

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Hello!

                                   SAPP
            Yes, hello.

                                   MR. SMITH
            Dr. Sapp, I presume?

                                   SAPP
            No.

                                   MR. SMITH
            No?

                                   SAPP
            I'm not a doctor.

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Dear, he's not a doctor.

                                   MR. SMITH
            No, of course not.  Silly of me.  Doctor...pfffft!

                                   SAPP
            What's all this then?  

                                   MR. SMITH
            As you see.

                                   SAPP
            Are you my eight thirty?

                                   MRS. SMITH
            So formal!

                                   MR. SMITH
                          (à la Groucho)
            I don't know about your eight thirty, but I'm her eight and a
            half, if ya know what I mean.

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Oh, stop!  
                          (Mini-beat)
            Dreamer.

                                   MR. SMITH
            Ouch.

                                   SAPP
            Are you...
                          (Checks his appointment book)
            Mr. and Mrs. Lyonel Smith?

                                   MR. SMITH
            Yes sir, Captain, sir.

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Well, I don't think he's a captain either.

                                   SAPP
            My name is Warren Sapp, and you may call me Mr. Sapp.

                                   MR. SMITH
            Roger Wilco.

                                   SAPP
            Have you brought all the necessary documentation?

                                   MR. SMITH
            Yes.

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Oh my, have we.  Sully's just coming up with it now.

                                   SAPP
            Sully is...your accountant?

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Oh goodness no!  He's the cab driver.  Very nice man.
                          (MR. SMITH gets up close to
                           SAPP with the camera)

                                   SAPP
            Mr. Smith, do you think it's a wise idea to set an
            antagonistic tone for this procedure?

                                   MR. SMITH
            How's that?

                                   SAPP
            The camera.

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Antagonistic?

                                   MR. SMITH
            We've got nothing to hide, Reverend Sapp.

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Oh honey, now you're just being silly.  He's not a man of the
            cloth.

                                   MR. SMITH
            No, he's a man of the paper.
                          (SULLY enters with a cart of
                           about seven boxes with little
                           pieces of colored paper-
                           receipts--sticking out of the
                           sides.  The boxes are STUFFED
                           to the max)

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Speaking of which--!

                                   SULLY
            Hello, Mrs. S.

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Hello, Sully.  Aren't you a dear.

                                   MR. SMITH
            Sully!

                                   SULLY
            Hello, Mr. S.!

                                   MR. SMITH
            This is Staff Sergeant Sapp.

                                   SULLY
            Yeah right.  Here, pull the other one.
                          (Beat, to SAPP)
            You treat these people nice, okay?

                                   SAPP
            I shall treat Mr. and Mrs. Smith exactly as I treat everyone
            else who comes into this office.

                                   SULLY
            I don't like your sort.

                                   MR. SMITH
            Ouch.  Got that on tape.

                                   SAPP
            You're not helping your friends much--

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Oh, he's no friend of ours!

                                   MR. SMITH
            Nope. 

                                   MRS. SMITH
            He's a freelance employee.

                                   SULLY
            Well, I've got the cab double parked...
                          (MR. SMITH pulls a crisp fifty
                           dollar bill from his pocket,
                           snaps it a few times for
                           SAPP's benefit, then hands it
                           to SULLY)

                                   MR. SMITH
            Thank you for your help, Sully.

                                   SULLY
            Mr. S., you're too kind.

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Please kiss the wife and kids for us.

                                   SAPP
            Will do, Mrs. S.
                          (HE gives her a kiss on the
                           cheek--is about to leave--)

                                   MR. SMITH
            Oh, uh, Sully...

                                   SULLY
            Yes, Mr. S.?

                                   MR. SMITH
            Think I could get a receipt from you for the, uh--?

                                   SULLY
            Of course, Mr. S.  What was I thinking?
                          (Spotting a crumpled napkin on
                           the desk...to Mr. SAPP)
            You finished with that?
                          (Before SAPP can answer, SULLY
                           grabs the napkin and scrawls
                           out a quick "receipt" on the
                           napkin)
            There ya go.  I made it for an even hundred to cover the
            fifty you gave me downstairs.

                                   MR. SMITH
            What?  I didn't give--
                          (SULLY gives a big wink)
            Oh!  Oh, of course...the fifty downstairs.

                                   SULLY
            Now yer catching on.  So long folks.

                                   MRS. SMITH
                          (Sing songy)
            Good bye!

                                   SAPP
            Mr. and Mrs. Smith, I have other appointments today.  Shall
            we get started?

                                   MR. SMITH
            Right away, Mr. President.
                          (THEY sit)

                                   SAPP
            Now I believe, Mr. And Mrs. Smith, part of the reason your
            return was tagged for an audit has to do with some of the
            questionable business deductions you've claimed on your
            return.

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Questionable?

                                   MR. SMITH
                          (like he's on Gunsmoke)
            Can't say like the sound of that, Marshall.
                                   SAPP
            For example, thirty thousand dollars for "business
            entertainment" seems rather...excessive.

                                   MR. SMITH
            Excessive for you maybe.
                          (To MRS. SMITH)
            That's somewhere on the bottom, dear.
                          (MRS. SMITH starts moving boxes
                           from the cart, her butt to the
                           two men.  MR. SMITH zooms in
                           on her behind.  SAPP notices
                           this on the television.  MR.
                           SMITH turns and catches him
                           looking.  SAPP gets
                           embarrassed)

                                   MR. SMITH (cont'd)
                          (à la Eliza Doolittle's father)
            Caught you looking, gov'ner.

                                   SAPP
            I wasn't--

                                   MR. SMITH
            Not to worry.  What do you think I married her for, eh?

                                   SAPP
            Mr. Smith, the camera is highly irregular--

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Here it is--business entertainment.
                          (SHE pulls out an over-stuffed
                           folder which is brimming with
                           receipts.  Many drop on the
                           floor as SHE brings it to
                           SAPP's desk, and SHE doesn't
                           bother to pick them up.  SAPP
                           opens the folder, and first
                           thing HE sees--

                                   SAPP
            Okay, now right off the bat, you've got a receipt here for
            five-thousand-thirty-six dollars and seventy-eight cents for
            lingerie from Fredericks of Hollywood.

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Ooops.

                                   MR. SMITH
            That's in the wrong folder...

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Should be in "uniforms."

                                   SAPP
            Uniforms?

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Yes.

                                   SAPP
            Mr. and Mrs. Smith, you sell...
                          (Looking at the tax return)

                                   MRS. SMITH
            --galoshes.

                                   SAPP
            You sell galoshes.

                                   MR. SMITH
            Of the highest quality.  We brought a pair for you, comrade. 
            Everyone could use a good pair of galoshes.

                                   SAPP
            It's not appropriate for me to accept gifts...

                                   MRS. SMITH
            So honest!

                                   MR. SMITH
            He's a treasure.

                                   SAPP
            You sell galoshes, and everyone in your office, you'd have me
            believe--

                                   MR. SMITH 
            --I look very fetching in fish nets.

                                   MRS. SMITH
            That's an understatement.
                          (MR. SMITH blows her a kiss)

                                   SAPP
            Mr. and Mrs. Smith, I'm having a great deal of trouble--

                                   MR. SMITH
                          (To SAPP)
            When's the last time you wore women's undergarments?

                                   SAPP
            What?  I wore...?  Never!

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Don't know what your missing.

                                   MR. SMITH
            It's quite a sensation.  Silky, smooth, luxurious.  Like
            having a silky, smooth, luxurious woman caressing your beans
            and franks all day long.

                                   MRS. SMITH
                          (Getting all hot and bothered)
            Oooo!  Grrrr!
                          (MR. SMITH kisses her neck. 
                           SHE squeals uncontrollably as
                           if HE were mercilessly
                           tickling her.  HE does it
                           again, this time making sure
                           to get the best video angle. 
                           SAPP is strangely and
                           grudgingly intrigued, fixating
                           on the video monitor, but then
                           quickly trying to bring it
                           back to business)

                                   SAPP
            Uh...Mr....Mr. and Mrs. Smith...uh...Mr. and Mrs. Smith...can
            we...please...PLEASE!
                          (THEY stop...turn to SAPP
                           grinning widely)

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Don't know how you expect me to concentrate on figures now.

                                   MR. SMITH
            I've got a figure you can concentrate on.

                                   MRS. SMITH
                          (Fanning herself)
            You're a fine figure of a man.  Oooo, boy!  Is it hot in
            here!  
                          (Indicating SAPP's coffee cup)
            Can I get a swig of that, Warren?

                                   SAPP
            No!
                          (SHE drinks before HE can stop
                           her, and her eyes pop wide
                           open)

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Whew!  
                          (Coughs)
            That's some hair of a big ole dog! 

                                   MR. SMITH
                          (laughing hysterically)
            You should have seen your face!  Got it all on tape.

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Got any more of that, bartender?

                                   SAPP
            Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, I am going to have to
            insist that we, we continue...please.
                          (MR. and MRS. SMITH sit)

                                   SAPP (cont'd)
            Now...okay...here on a napkin you have something scrawled in
            childlike writing from...someone named Trixie.  Fifty
            dollars.  I mean really!  Your paperwork--

                                   MR. SMITH 
            Oh yeah, Trixie!

                                   MRS. SMITH
            She was a dear.

                                   MR. SMITH
            Passed away.  Very unfortunate circumstances.  Combine
            accident.

                                   MRS. SMITH
            No, no, wrong dear.  She was stampeded by a cow--

                                   MR. SMITH
            --with mad cow disease.  That's right.  Tragic.
                          (Beat)
            Is "stampeded" really the right word when there was only one
            cow?

                                   SAPP
            I shudder to inquire what sort of services Trixie provided as
            they pertain to business entertainment.

                                   MRS. SMITH
                          (After a beat)
            Fucking.

                                   MR. SMITH
            Yes, fucking.

                                   SAPP
            Are you telling me that--

                                   MR. SMITH
            We made thirty thousand dollars that particular day,
            remember, dear?

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Trixie was good at fucking.

                                   MR. SMITH
            She was a closer.

                                   SAPP
            Do you mean to say--you would have me believe that Trixie
            somehow is responsible for a--

                                   MR. SMITH
            --a thirty thousand dollar order of galoshes.  Let's face it,
            sex sells.

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Remember, Lyonel, she closed on a $50,000 sale about two
            months later.

                                   MR. SMITH
            She was a treasure.  I think it was her teeth.

                                   MRS. SMITH
            True.

                                   SAPP
            Her teeth?

                                   MRS. SMITH
            She didn't have any.

                                   MR. SMITH
            Just gums.

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Very popular with the buyers.

                                   SAPP
            So you mean to tell me that a cheap hooker--!

                                   MR. SMITH
            Hey, hey now--!

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Really!

                                   MR. SMITH
            Watch your mouth, officer!  Trixie was not cheap!

                                   SAPP
            This receipt is for fifty dollars!

                                   MR. SMITH
            She gave us a wholesale rate.

                                   SAPP
            Oh for Christsake, any hooker who charges anything less than
            five hundred dollars is...

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Five hundred?  Is that the going rate these days?

                                   SAPP
            I--I don't really know.  I have never in my life used a,
            a...can we please return to the subject at hand?

                                   MR. SMITH
            Uh oh, that's on the highlight reel, Senator Sapp.

                                   SAPP
            Will you turn off that goddamned camera!

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Ooops, someone got up on the wrong side of the hooker this
            morning.

                                   SAPP
            Can we please...I sleep with my wife!

                                   MR. SMITH
            Well, I should hope so.

                                   SAPP
            I don't sleep with--with hookers.

                                   MR. SMITH
            Well, who'd want to sleep anyway--when you've got a hooker?

                                   SAPP
            I know nothing about hookers.  I only once read somewhere
            that five hundred dollars was--  

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Me thinks he doth protest to much.

                                   SAPP 
            Turn off that camera.  I'm going to insist now--

                                   MR. SMITH
            I object, your honor!

                                   SAPP 
            Give me that!  Give me that!
                          (SAPP lunges at MR. SMITH,
                           trips on a trash can, and
                           falls on MRS. SMITH instead
                           unintentionally grabbing her
                           chest for support)
            I'm--I'm sorry, Mrs. Smith.

                                   MRS. SMITH
            My what strong hands you have!

                                   MR. SMITH
            The better to grope you with, my dear.  

                                   SAPP
            That was an accident.

                                   MR. SMITH
            I know, I know.  Got it all on tape.

                                   SAPP
            I slipped!  That wasn't intentional!  Will you please turn
            that off?

                                   MR. SMITH
            Are you kidding?  I want to remember you for the rest of my
            life, Warren Sapp.  Our rendezvous here today is a treasure
            in the long book of life experiences.  Gritty.  Real. 
            Honest.  

                                   MRS. SMITH
            It's a beautiful thing.

                                   MR. SMITH
            Would you like a copy?

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Who wouldn't?

                                   MR. SMITH
            For you and the missus to watch over and over...and over
            again.

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Now that's special.

                                   SAPP
                          (After a long pause, sucking it
                           in)
            Mr. Smith...Mrs. Smith...after careful review, I see
            that...your return is in perfect order.

                                   MRS. SMITH
            Oh Mr. Sapp, what a dear!

                                   SAPP
            And I am giving you a grade of A-1 which means you'll have no
            additional taxes or penalties.  
                          (MR. SMITH removes the tape
                           from the camera and puts it in
                           his right hand)

                                   MR. SMITH 
            Care to shake on that, Mr. Sapp?

                                   SAPP
            Nothing would please me more.

                                   MR. SMITH
            Put her there.
                          (THEY shake and SAPP gets the
                           tape)

                                   SAPP
            Can I get one of our Junior auditors to help you down with
            those boxes?
                                   MRS. SMITH
            Aren't you a dear?

                                   MR. SMITH
            That would be swell.  Mr. Sapp, who says the IRS doesn't have
            a heart?

                          (Lights fade to black)

                          (END OF PLAY)

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