Act I Scene 3

[The Happier Hunting Ground Office. A seedy back room never viewed by the clients. A large oven door dominates. Lights up on DENNIS holding the aluminium container. He is listening to the radio.]

ANNOUNCER: News just in – Sir Francis Hinsley, the veteran Hollywood scriptwriter, has been found dead near his office at Megalopolitan Studios. A spokesman for the Los Angeles Police Department said they were not viewing his death as suspicious. More later. This news-flash was brought to you courtesy of Kaiser’s Stoneless Peaches….

KAISER GIRLS:

K – A – I – S – E – R

THEY’RE FLUFFY SWEET AND FUN TO EAT

THE FLAVOUR OVERREACHES

YOU MAY TRY BUT YOU’LL NOT BEAT

OUR KAISER’S STONELESS PEACHES

[DENNIS turns the radio off. He stands motionless before lifting the phone then hangs up when SCHULTZ enters]

SCHULTZ: Ah, Dennis. That was a quick trip. No problems I take it?

DENNIS: Perfectly straightforward. No quibbling or haggling over the cost. To coin a phrase, Mr Schultz – the Heinkels have money to burn! [Taking off his coat] Jesus, it’s like an oven in here!

SCHULTZ: And has been all week I’m happy to say. [Opening the aluminium container] Not very big is he? That’s good though, we can slide him in alongside that Labrador that came in this morning. There’ll be plenty of room and it keeps the fuel bills down.

DENNIS: I did not expect you to be here.

SCHULTZ: [opening the refrigerator and removing a plate of sandwiches and a milk carton from amongst the dead animals] I’m off shortly. I promised to take Dolores to the Planetarium but she doesn’t knock off at the Rollerdrome till three. I was waiting till the last batch was cold enough to pack up. They’re all for home delivery. Except the goat.

DENNIS: Did you come up with anything for the remembrance card?

SCHULTZ: As a matter of fact I did. Dealing sensitively with the death of barnyard animals is always kinda tricky, but I think the budding writer in you will appreciate my efforts. [Pulling a sheet from the typewriter] “Today in the clouds/All fluffy and hilly/He’s thinkin’ of you/Your bearded pal, Billy.”

DENNIS: That’s very witty, Mr Schultz. You’ll make a poet yet!

SCHULTZ: You think so, huh?

DENNIS: Are you familiar with the works of Shelley?

SCHULTZ: Temple?

DENNIS: Percy Bysshe Shelley. He’s a poet you see. “Tremble ye conquerors at whose fell command/The war-fiend riots over o’er a peaceful land/You Desolation’s gory throng/Shall bear from Victory along”.

SCHULTZ: Ah, the beauty of a classical education. I knew you’d be good for business the moment you walked through that door. Vinny, I said, this young man has class, sophistication. He talks nice and he’s a looker too goddam it! The ladies’ll love that.The guy before you lacked charm. Wit. He had a body odour problem too - but you, you Mr Wiseguy, have found your niche. Have no doubt about it - Megalopolitan’s loss is the Happier Hunting Ground’s gain.

DENNIS: I’d rather we didn’t discuss it if it’s all the same with you.

SCHULTZ: Ah, lighten up. [putting his arm around Dennis’ shoulders] You don’t need none of them. You got me now. Where’s that smile? Attaboy. And I’ll tell you somethin’ else. One of these days you’re gonna thank me. One of these days you and me are gonna be lyin’ on a beach in Tahiti.

DENNIS: How do you mean, Mr Schultz?

SONG: TURN UP THE GAS

SCHULTZ

I think I can say without reservation that things are looking good

There's a big call for incineration right here in Hollywood

If you look at the facts it's quite clear

Ten thousand new cars every year

And with people like me on the road

Dead cats and dogs are gonna be the mode

Believe me

If I'm assumin'

That an upward turn is loomin'

Because the need for us is bloomin'

Turn up the gas

And so presumin'

That those new motor cars keep zoomin'

Then business is boomin'

Turn up the gas

DENNIS

Just thinkin' of the work load brings me out in the sweats

SCHULTZ

Remind me in the mornin' that we're low on briquettes

DENNIS

If things in here get too hot then we'll turn down the jets

SCHULTZ

No! Turn up the jets

Turn up the jets

Turn up the gas

And just imagine

All those demented dogs zigzaggin'

And when their little tails stop waggin'

Turn up the gas

So if I'm naggin'

Because it seems to me you're flaggin'

After a long day's tag and baggin'

Turn up the gas

DENNIS

If you can play your cards right you'll be layin' the bets

SCHULTZ

With all those extra corpses I can pay of my debts

DENNIS

And you mustn't overlook that little deal with the vets

BOTH

Turn up the gas

SCHULTZ: Sorry, Ma'am, I can't do Rover this week.

DENNIS: Why's that, Mr Schultz?

SCHULTZ: I'm working with a skeleton staff.

SCHULTZ

No time for nappin'

Cos when those little jaws stop yappin'

Their fury bodies you'll be wrappin'

Turn up the gas

Get set get posted

Stand by get ready to be roasted

Roll up see Tibbles gettin' toasted

Oh what a gas

So give your pets a manicure and sharpen their claws

They won't get into Heaven mam with mud on their paws

Make sure they look their best before they glide through those doors

BOTH

Turn up the gas

SCHULTZ

A casked lined in velvet that is simply pow-wow

DENNIS

The sort of homely comfort even puss would allow

SCHULTZ

Going to his maker with a final meeow

BOTH

Turn up the gas

DANCE BREAK

SCHULTZ: I’ll be like Noah in his Ark – unable to move for all the different species. Hey! We could do taxidermy - at Thanksgiving. The perfect gift! Catgut for fiddle strings! ‘Mr Schultz’s Horse Hoof Adhesive’. What have I always said: “There’s Cash in Ash!”

SCHULTZ

And so on Sunday mornin' after taking their vows

DENNIS

St Peter and the angels stand their moppin' their brows

BOTH

It's us they'll have to thank for Farmer Ned's holy cows

Turn up the gas

SCHULTZ: THERE’S CASH IN ASH!

[SCHULTZ picks up his coat and exits. DENNIS turns on the radio, puts his feet up on the desk and begins reading a newspaper. SIR AMBROSE ABERCROMBIE enters unseen and turns off the radio. DENNIS looks up]

AMBROSE: So this is where you’ve been hiding out.

DENNIS: Yes. Don’t you like it?

AMBROSE: [looking around the room] We had an unfortunate case some years ago of a very decent young fellow who came out here as a scene designer. Clever chap but he went completely native. Wore ready-made shoes and a belt instead of braces, went about without a tie, ate at drug stores. Then, if you’ll believe it, he left the studio and opened a restaurant with an Italian. Got cheated of course and the next thing he was behind a bar shaking cocktails. Appalling business. We raised a subscription to send him home, but the bugger wouldn’t go. Said he liked the place if you please. That man did irreparable harm, Barlow. Luckily the war came. He went home then alright and got himself killed in Norway. He atoned, but I always think how much better not to have anything to atone for, eh?

DENNIS: Have you read my latest rave? “It is forbidden by Californian law to scatter human remains from an aeroplane, but the skies are free to the animal world. On this unique occasion it fell to Dennis Barlow of The Happier Hunting Ground Pet Cemetery, to commit the tabby’s ashes to the slip-stream over Sunset Boulevard”.

AMBROSE: [snatching the newspaper] What in God's name do you think you're playing at?

DENNIS: The owner's favourite movie was Gone With The Wind.

AMBROSE: You know the form out here as well as I do. Not once but twice now you have been a great embarrassment to us all. Things were bad enough when they fired you from Megalopolitan after – what was it?

DENNIS: Three days.

AMBROSE: Three days. And now this – macabre – occupation. Do you give your new employer satisfaction, do you think?

DENNIS: Apparently so. It is my combination of melancholy with the English accent. Several of our clientele have commented favourably upon it.

AMBROSE: There are jobs that an Englishman just doesn’t take. We British have a position to keep up. You never find an Englishman among the underdogs – except in England of course. That’s understood out here. They respect a man who knows his own value. Now you’re a man of reputation in your own line, Barlow. I don’t say poets are much in demand but the studios are bound to want one again sooner or later and when they do they’ll come to you cap in hand – if you haven’t done anything in the meantime to lose their respect. You’ve heard about Frank I take it? A terrible tragedy – but one out of which you yourself might find reason to atone. This is an occasion when we’ve all got to show the flag. A funeral is not a time for penny-pinching and so I have chosen Whispering Glades as Frank’s final resting place. We may have to put our hands in our pockets but it will be money well spent if it puts the British colony right in the eyes of the industry. As his close friend, I feel sure that Frank would find comfort knowing that you were sorting out all the preliminary arrangements, Barlow. You owe him that. And while you are about it, give some thought to a reading. Something I can recite at the graveside. Right it yourself if necessary. You're a literary chap. [Going to leave] It’s a big responsibility. I'm needed on set every day this week so I want you to go up to Whispering Glades as soon as the police hand over the body.

DENNIS: I suppose you’d prefer I wore an armband?

AMBROE: I’d prefer not to see a failed Englishman hanging around Hollywood.

[AMBROSE exits. Blackout]

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