Chris, Boris, and Betsy face the audience in a cramped car bouncing along a dark country road. Its beams pick up dark deciduous forests and fields behind stone walls.
In the front seat, Chris—driving—and Betsy are smoking. Boris is crouched in the back. Betsy leans out the window and yells.
BETSY: Fuck Weird! Fuck New York! Hail Satan!
CHRIS: Louder. Say it louder. LOUDER.
BORIS: Watch out. Be careful.
CHRIS: She’s fine. I’m holding her belt.
BORIS: What if the problem isn’t her falling out, but something falling in? Chris pulls at Betsy, who drags her head back into the car, still smoking.
BETSY: You know, that’s pervy, holding my belt like that.
CHRIS: You calling me a pervert?
BETSY: I’m calling you a pervert.
CHRIS: Takes one to know one.
BORIS: I thought you were his sister.
BETSY: Half sister. And definitely not the lower half.
CHRIS: Boris, meet Betsy. Betsy, Boris.
BETSY: Boris, like from Boris and Natasha?
BORIS: You know the show?
BETSY: Dude, I’m from Minnesota. Frostbite Falls, Minnesota.
BORIS: Well, then, you better be careful. You’re making a positive Bullwinkle of yourself.
CHRIS: Boris is from Toronto. He knows Sheila’s sister.
BORIS: So, you are a Satan worshiper?”
BETSY: Oh, honey, I’m more than just a Satan worshiper. I’m a Snack-Size bag of sin.
BORIS: So, you believe in the devil?
BETSY: I don’t believe in god.
BORIS: Only the devil would say that.
CHRIS: Do you believe in the devil, Boris?
BORIS: I believe in a lot of things.
A bunny hops in front of the car and is squashed under the tire. Everyone bumps as the bunny’s carcass rolls through.
BETSY: Ew, that was crunchy.
CHRIS: Maybe THAT was the devil. The devil can do mysterious things, right?
BETSY: That’s just what I was saying. HAIL SATAN!
She leans out of the window. Chris grabs her belt.
BETSY: Screaming. Hail Satan! King of Evil—
From stage left, an enormous tree veers close to the road and severs Betsy in two at the window’s edge. The car spins from the impact, as blood spurts erratically from the torso; a long, bone-white spine flails violently.
CHRIS: HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT WHAT JUST HAPPENED? BORIS: WATCH OUT!
The car smashes against a rock and stops. Steam rises from the engine. After a moment, the hood pops up, and flames flicker out.
CHRIS: We’d better get the fuck out of here.
BORIS: I’m gonna be sick.
They climb from the car onto a blood-soaked stage. Betsy’s torso has slid to the edge of the stage, and her head, with bones protruding from a watery pink mass of brains, is caught in a branch. Blood flows from her chin in a steady drip. Chris leaves the car, slips on blood, but quickly recovers and steps deliberately and quickly away from the vehicle. Flames now rise higher.
CHRIS: Boris?
Boris exits the car at a run but makes it only a few steps before flailing his arms and collapsing onto all fours. He vomits profusely.
CHRIS: Boris, you gotta get out of here.
BORIS: Between heaves. I’m kinda busy right now.
CHRIS: Yeah, but I’m worried the car is gonna blow.
Boris vomits again. Chris pulls him across the stage through pools of blood. He falls, and now both are covered in blood. They take refuge behind a rock, downstage right, at the base of the tree in which the head of Betsy hangs. The car explodes stage left. Chris and Boris shield their eyes.
CHRIS: Oh my god, Oh my god what the fuck?
BORIS: I don’t know. Where is Betsy? Did she…
CHRIS: I think she did. I mean, whose blood is this?
BORIS: What happened?
CHRIS: I don’t know. I mean, Just…out of nowhere, this, like, tree was right there by the side of the road. Oh my god.
BORIS: But, Chris…
CHRIS: What?
BORIS: Now do you believe in Satan? I mean, don’t you think it’s a bit strange, that .. you know,.. what she was yelling?
CHRIS: Fuck you. No seriously. Fuuuck you. Sick fuck. My sister just got sliced in two, and you gonna be all Russian on me? Fuck you.
Behind them, center stage, Betsy’s eyes open. Blood spurts with a bit more animation.
BETSY: Really, Chris? You really are gonna be that motherfucking rational about Satan?
Chris and Boris turn and scream: AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!
Betsy laughs.
BETSY: And remember, bitches: This is the shit I do for fun. You wanna get funky with me? I’ll take you to Khan Younis and back. Which reminds me… Free Palestine, motherfuckers!
Betsey removes a gun from her branches and shoots both Chris and Boris through the head. In a shower of blood.
Curtain
