Saturday, September 17, 2011

The Crime on Floor Eleven


Harry, how do you hit the button
So that it doesn’t stop?

You know, the elevator?

Ah well, to hell with it
Too late now

Anyway, it’s only on eleven

Mrs. Buley threatening to kill her husband again

She called at two pm
And said she’d kill him right after dinner
So I did some paperwork first

I figure we have another five minutes
To stop her

And we—

Okay, so we’re stopping at floor two
Are you sure you don’t remember
Which button you push?

It’s like a sequence

You press ‘Door Close’ and then—

Hi Mrs. Simmons

Yup, Mrs. Buley on eleven again

Yup, I hope we make it too
Mr. Buley’s annoying as Hell
But he certainly doesn’t deserve to die

Yes, Mrs. Simmons
You’ve told me about your daughter
You even showed me a picture

I’m not at all surprised that she’s single
She’s probably the most hideous woman
I’ve ever seen

Oh, don’t worry about it Harry
They’ve been working on the high rise next door for months
And now everybody in this building
Can’t hear because of all the jack hammering

Might as well have a little fun with ‘em, right?

Yes, Mrs. Simmons
I was just telling my partner here about your daughter
And how all those missing teeth
Add a nice touch of mischief to her smile

See Harry, she—

Third floor, great.

Why is this elevator so slow?

Harry, see if you can figure out the button sequence
I think it’s door close, then the floor, then—

Hi Mr. Mustagee
Glad to know
You still smell like ham

Consistency is comforting

Mrs. Simmons, don’t you think Mr. Mustagee smells like ham?

You should fix him up with your daughter

Oh sure, he’s about forty years older than her
But love is, ultimately, a compromise

Just the other day
When I was planting evidence
I thought to myself—

Fourth floor?!?!?!

Harry, press the emergency button
See if they can help us

Press it!

Why is it playing Neil Sedaka?

Neil Sedaka plays when you press the emergency button?

That’s not going to do anybody any good!

I mean, I like Neil Sedaka
But he’s not going to get me
To the eleventh floor any faster

Damn these bureaucrats
And their public safety budget cuts!

Hello Linda

Yes, it’s nice to see you

This is Harry
My gay lover
We’re into whips, ropes
And lawn mowers

Yes, I do think that you were P.T. Barnum
In a past life

No, I don’t think you’re a paranoid schizophrenic
Who’s married to a cardboard cut-out
Of Henry Winkler

I think you’re the picture of mental health, Lisa
The symbol of sanity
The—

Oh God, not Floor Five

Floor Five means—

RICHARD!

No, it’s fine
We have plenty of room
In the elevator

After all, they say a person’s sanity
Takes up about three feet of their spiritual space
So that means we have twelve extra feet
Not being used!

So what are you eating today, Richard?

Stamps?
Plastic cups?
A t-shirt you bought at a Whitesnake concert in ’87?

Ah, a stuffed turtle

Well, that’s an adorable sight

If you weren’t a fifty-three year-old man
Everything about you would be precious and darling
Instead of creepy and disturbing

I guess it’s all in how you look at things, right Harry?

Harry, see if you can get us to just go back down
I don’t know if I have the strength
To stop Mrs. Buley from shooting her husband today

Maybe the gun will jam
And then we can just come back tomorrow
She’s never going to find someone who can unjam a gun
At this time of night on a—

Floor Six—the O’Briens and their poodles

Hello Gypsy
Hello Auntie Mame
Hello Troublesome Angel

Harry, they’re all named after Rosalind Russell movies

Trust me, the poodles lucked out

They named their kids after Sophia Loren movies

How’d you like to go through life
With a name like Scandal in Sorrento?

Floor Seven—Mr. Masterson, I’ve told you a hundred times

You cannot run a balloon factory
Out of your apartment

It’s got nothing to do with zoning

The day you dropped that staple gun
Mrs. Simmons thought somebody ordered a mob hit upstairs

Floor Eight—No, Ms. Njantic, it doesn’t look infected

Floor Nine—Yes, Mr. Connors, it does look infected

Floor Ten!

We’re almost there, Harry!

I can’t breathe
I can’t move
And Auntie Mame
Just peed on my leg

But we’re almost—

Was that a gunshot?

Or one of Mr. Masterson’s balloons?

It came from above us?

Uh…

Can somebody hit the button for the Lobby?

I think we’re all set here

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