Embedded Files
HOUSEGUESTS
A Comedy Sketch
By Laura Crowley
EXT. SEMI-WOODED SIDEWALK — NIGHT
TRACY, mid-20s, walks home from class with a backpack slung over one shoulder. The sidewalk is empty. The trees crowd close.
A faint MOAN drifts from the woods.
Tracy stops.
Another moan. Then rustling.
She looks toward the trees. Five ZOMBIES limp out of the darkness, silhouetted under the streetlights.
Tracy screams and runs.
EXT. TRACY’S HOUSE — MOMENTS LATER
Tracy fumbles with her keys, glancing over her shoulder.
The zombies shamble closer.
She gets the door open, slips inside, and slams it shut.
INT. TRACY’S HOUSE — CONTINUOUS
Tracy locks the door, kills the lights, and grabs the phone.
Dead.
She opens a nearby closet and pulls out a baseball bat. She creeps to the front window and peeks out.
A rotten hand CRASHES through the glass beside her.
Tracy screams and backs away as the zombies climb into the house.
They surround her.
A beat.
One of the zombies, BETH, brightens.
BETH: So what’s been going on with you? You never call me!
Tracy freezes.
TRACY: Beth?
Beth smiles with rotted teeth and receding gums.
TRACY: When did you die?
BETH: Last week! See? This is what I’m talking about. You never check Facebook.
TRACY: I don’t know what to say. I’m so… sorry?
BETH: Oh, that’s okay. Being undead isn’t really that bad. I’ve made a bunch of new friends—
Beth gestures to the other zombies.
BETH: —and I’ve been traveling a lot. I’ve got all kinds of free time now, so it’s pretty cool.
Tracy looks at the other zombies. They smile and wave awkwardly.
TRACY: Right. Wow. Okay, don’t be offended by this or anything, but… you’re not going to eat my brains, are you?
Beth gasps, horrified.
BETH: Oh my God, no. That’s a myth. Zombies don’t eat brains or anything.
The other zombies nod, offended.
BETH: We usually just get takeout or stop somewhere on the road.
TRACY: Oh. Well, that’s good to know.
A beat.
TRACY: So why did you come here?
BETH: I don’t know. I just thought we could catch up. It’s been so long, and I’ve got all this time to just wander and be undead. I thought it would be fun.
Beth perks up.
BETH: What do you have going on this week?
Tracy does not like the sound of that.
---
MONTAGE — TRACY HANGS OUT WITH THE ZOMBIES
— SPORTS BAR: TODD sets down a pitcher of beer while JEFF arrives with a huge plate of hot wings. Tracy smiles tightly as ANGIE’S rotting arm slumps beside her on the table. Angie offers her a beer. Tracy accepts it with two fingers.
— DANCE CLUB: Jeff dances with a woman backing up on him. He reaches for her. His arm falls off. The woman storms away, disgusted. Jeff picks up the arm and high-fives Todd with it.
— PARK: The group picnics on blankets. Angie and Jeff toss a Frisbee. A mother hurries past with crying children. Tracy gives the zombies a tight, mortified smile.
END MONTAGE.
---
INT. TRACY’S LIVING ROOM — NIGHT
Tracy sits on the couch with her laptop open, surrounded by bills.
Beth enters and drops into the recliner. She grabs the remote and turns on the TV.
Tracy closes the laptop.
TRACY: Beth. We need to talk.
BETH: What’s up?
TRACY: When you first came to visit, you said you’d be staying a few days.
Beth smiles nervously.
TRACY: It’s been two weeks.
BETH: Time is weird when you’re dead.
TRACY: Your friends drink all my beer. They eat everything in my fridge. They use my car without offering to help out. Jeff brought it back twice this week with an empty tank.
Jeff is visible in the kitchen making a sandwich. He freezes and leans backward to listen.
TRACY: Are you sure you guys are zombies and not vampires? Because you are sucking me dry.
BETH: Wow.
TRACY: And there are pieces of rotting flesh everywhere. I found part of an ear in my sink.
A beat.
TRACY: Todd told me I’d get used to the smell. Todd is wrong.
Beth looks deeply hurt.
BETH: I had no idea you felt this way.
TRACY: Beth—
BETH: I’m sorry to be “sucking you dry,” but you’re the one who insisted we stay.
TRACY: I did not insist you stay.
BETH: And honestly, it’s pretty rude to take cheap shots at our physical impairments when you know full well it’s not something we can help.
TRACY: Your physical impairments are in my drain.
BETH: I’d like to see how well you hold up after you die, jeez.
TRACY: You’ve been making excuses for two weeks. Angie’s sister doesn’t want dead people sleeping on her new furniture. Jeff’s mom has a weak heart and can’t bear to see him dead. Todd’s car is still in the shop, so you can’t go stay with his family in Utah.
Beth’s eyes narrow.
TRACY: This is why I unfriended you forever ago. This is why I never call you.
Beth gasps.
BETH: You unfriended me?
TRACY: That’s what you took from that? Really?
BETH: You said you were too busy for Facebook.
Beth dabs at zombie tears.
BETH: You said you never called because you picked up overtime to pay off your credit cards. You said we were friends.
Tracy softens, but only a little.
TRACY: Beth.
BETH: Fine. We’ll leave. But don’t expect me to be one of your references for that job you just applied for. Even though I’ve known you longer than anyone and I give excellent references.
TRACY: Beth. You’re dead. I can’t put you on there anyway. Everyone would think I’m insane.
Beth stands, deeply wounded.
The other zombies emerge from various parts of the house, murmuring and groaning as they gather their things.
Jeff takes one last bite of sandwich.
Tracy glares.
He puts it back.
The zombies shuffle toward the front door.
Beth pauses in the doorway.
BETH: Well, I guess this is goodbye then. I’m sorry it has to end like this.
TRACY: Me too. Good luck.
Beth hesitates.
BETH: You wouldn’t happen to know what Steph is up to these days, would you? Do you have her number?
TRACY: Goodbye, Beth.
Tracy shuts the door.
She leans against it and breathes a long sigh of relief.
Then she returns to the couch.
An old black-and-white zombie movie plays on TV. Onscreen, zombies tear into a screaming victim.
Tracy watches, disgusted.
TRACY: Ha. What. Ever.
She grabs the remote.
TRACY: If only that’s all they wanted.
CUT TO BLACK.
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