Who’s Afraid Of Velma Weiss? by Gary O. Bennett

VELMA is in a chair.  Her arms are tied behind her, and her ankles are tied to the two front legs of the heavy wood chair.  A balled sock has been shoved in her mouth.  Sitting opposite her is GEORGE, also in a wood hair tied up similarly.  But George’s head is slumped forward, and nothing has been shoved in his mouth.  George is wearing tortoise shell glasses that are a bit crooked on his face.  Velma struggles to get the balled sock out of her mouth.  At some point she successfully spits it out, the sock flying across the space between Velma and George.  The balled sock beans George in the head.

Velma:  Asshole.  Hey, asshole, wake up.

George stirs, his head rising slowly.  He feels pain, primarily from the neck up.

George:  What…

Velma:  What.  What do you mean what?  Look at me.  Look at me.

George:  What happened?  Jeez, my head.

Velma:  That’s right.  Focus on your head and not the fact that your wife is tied up to a chair.  Typical Georgie boy.  Think of yourself and not me.  Look at me.   Look at me.

George:  Velma…sweetheart.

Velma:  Velma sweetheart.  Is that funny?  Is that supposed to be a joke?  Or are you just being typical dimwit George.  Untie me.  Untie me right now.

George struggles to get free, but he is tied too well.

Velma  You going to let a few ropes tied around your anemic arms and legs stop you.  Get out of that chair.  My butt is falling asleep.

George:  What happened?

Velma:  What happened?  I’ll tell you what happened.  You stood there and watched this black mother fucker tie me to this chair.  That’s what happened.

George:  Did he hurt you?

Velma:  Did he hurt me?  Georgie, my sweet, darling impotent husband…you there, you just stood there and watched that overgrown cretin tie me to this chair.  You saw him push me down and slap me around and stick a sock in my mouth.  Your filthy sock, stuck in my mouth, and you stood there scared like a little school girl about to get raped.

George:  I didn’t know what to do.

Velma:  Well, let’s see.  You could have picked up a lamp and clonked him on the head.

George:  Velma, he would have hit me.

Velma:  You’re concerned about getting hit when your wife…your wife, Georgie, was getting tied up.  Not just tied up, George.  Tied up by a black man who touched me.  He touched me and pushed me down and squeezed my arms.  And then pushed my head back and opened my mouth.

George:  Yes.  I am sorry about that.

Velma:  His hands smelled like, I don’t know, like a black man’s.  Greasy and gross.  It was disgusting and…and violent.  And you just stood there.

George:  But how did I get like this?

Velma:  This shows what a loser you are, George.  His back was turned to you, and you watched the whole thing like you were watching TV.  And Georgie just let it happen.  I even thought I saw a smile on your face.  But I’m guessing you were just frozen.  Some dumb fuck frozen fear carved on your face.

George:  I was concerned.

Velma:  And then the gorilla turns around and faces you and there was like this thing.

George:  Thing?

Velma:  Yeah this moment where I thought you were going to actually and finally prove to me that you are a man and not a little boy without pubic hair.  This moment where you looked confident, where you were about to say something.  And then the gorilla walks out of the room, leaving us alone.

George:  Yes, I remember that.

Velma:  Yeah, asshole, do you remember me trying to talk to you with a sock in my mouth, trying to tell you to untie me?  Do you remmeber that?

George:  I remember you were upset.  But you are often upset, Velma.  And it did not seem much different than any other time you get upset.

Velma:  Didn’t seem different.  A black man is in our house and he’s not a plumber or the cable guy, he’s a fucking burgler, George, and he stuck a sock in my mouth, and you don’t think this was different than any other normal moment when I get pissed?

George:  Maybe he was the cable guy.  He looked familiar.

Velma:  So I’m trying to get you to, what George, guess what I was trying to get you to do while you stood there with your wife tied up in a chair with a sock in her mouth?

George:  OK, sweetheart, I know.  I should have untied you, and I was going to do it, but then I don’t remember anything.

Velma:  That’s because the black guy comes back in and hits you on the head with the butt of a handgun.

George:  He did?  That jerk.

Velma:  Oh, he’s a jerk because he hits you on the head, but he’s the cable guy when he ties up your wife?

George:  So then he tied me to this chair?

Velma:  My mother was right.  Don’t marry a Jew, she said.  Don’t marry a Jew because they are all fucking wimps.

George:  Your mother said that?

Velma:  My father thought you were a fag.

George:  Your mother used the word “fuck”?

Velma:  I told Daddy that you weren’t a fag.  At least I didn’t think so.

George:  Velma, would you stop it with the fag thing.  It’s so old, already.

Velma:  It bothers you because you know it’s true.  You don’t touch me with lust, Georgie.  You touch me like I’m some carved statue in a museum.

George:  Velma, you are going into the zone, into that hysterical place.  You don’t need to go there, sweetheart.  OK, OK, so try to pull yourself back.  Because trust me, you don’t want to go there.  You don’t want to go there.

Velma:  You know George, let’s just get this out right now.  I hate the name Weiss.  I hate that my name announces that I am a Jew.

George:  Technically, you are not a Jew, Velma.  You never converted.

Velma:  I know I am not a Jew, schmuckhead.  But everyone thinks I am.  Shit, people think I am a Jewish girl who married a fag.  A Jewish fag.  Do you see why I am hysterical?  Do you see why this drives me insane.

George:  Where is the cable guy…the black man?

Velma:  He’s upstairs, probably, stealing my jewelry.  Jewelry, I remind you, that was not only my mother’s but much of it purchased for me by my father because he knew what a cheap bastard you were.  Do you remember the engagement ring you tried to give me?

George:  It was all I could afford.  Damn, Velma, are we going down this road now?

Velma:  Stainless steel with a zirconium stone.  And a small zirconium stone, at that.  A fucking fake diamond that was not only fake but it was tiny, the size of a peppercorn.  My father was right.  Cheap cheap cheap.  He said all Jews are cheap.  He said George was marrying me for the money.

George:  That’s not true, Velma.  I loved you.  You were the most beautiful…the most beautiful vision that ever came into my life.  Ever.  You were gorgeous when we married.  You were actually sweet and…and normal.

Velma:  Normal?

George:  And I dreamed of having children and having a life with you as a mother.

Velma:  Oh, your making me cry, Georgie.  Children.  Little fuckers running around that I have to feed every morning and read books to and put to bed at night.  Sounds like hell.  You’re making me think you even give a shit.

George:  I do give a shit.  I have always given a shit.  But you don’t see it.

Velma:  The only thing I saw was a big black man nearly rape me in front of you.

George:  He raped you?

Velma:  At least that black fuck upstairs is just too stupid to know that my jewelry box is filled with fake diamonds, stuffed to the brim with all the fake crap you have given me through the years.

At that moment a black man walks into the room.  His presence startles both Velma and George.  The black man is holding several pieces of jewelry in his hand.  His name is JACQUES, but we do not know that yet.

Jacques:  This jewelry is all phony.  Do you have a safe, Mr. Weiss?

George:  Jacques, what did you do?  Why am I tied up?

Velma:  Jacques?  Jacques?  You know this guy?

George:  I told you, Velma, he is our cable guy.

Jacques:  Mr. Weiss, I am sorry.  I had a change of plans.  The money did not seem sufficient compensation for the service to be rendered.  So I thought I would partake myself of your beautiful wife’s jewelry, but I have discovered that everything in the house appears to be fake.  Not a genuine diamond to be found anywhere.  Very disappointing.  So perhaps a safe might be around somewhere?

George:  Jacques, there is no safe.  My wife keeps everything of value in a deposit box at the bank.  And there is little or no cash in the house, I am afraid.

Jacques:  Ah well.  So I guess we are back to Plan A.

Jacques then quickly unties George.

Velma:  What the fuck is going on here?

George:  Those ropes really hurt, Jacques.

Jacques:  I am sorry.  I was moving with haste and possibly made the knots too tight.

George stands, massaging his wrists.

Velma:  I don’t mean to interrupt the boy talk, but Jacquey baby, if you are my cable guy, then uncable me while you are at it.

Jacques looks over at George.  George acknowledges.  Jacques proceeds to cut the ropes that tie Velma.

Velma:  So what is this Plan A?  Don’t tell me Georgie that you have gone into business with a black man.  My baby Jewish husband in business with a nnn…excuse me.  Forgive me for even thinking of the n-word.  But the Jew Boy and the Black Man are in business together to do what?  To do what?  May I ask?  May I ask you Jacquey what this insufficient compensation was?  You know my husband is a cheap bastard, so of course you are going to get gyped no matter what the service you were suppose to render.  But I am surprised that you would even know the difference between adequate versus inadequate compensation.  I love it.  The cheap man hires the stupid man to do what?  What the fuck were you supposed to do?

By now Velma is untied and standing and massaging her wrists, and is talking herself into a frenzy.

Velma:  What was he paying you?  Can you remember?  You have a memory?  You have a brain?  Watch it Black man because Jew boy might steal your brain and sell it.  Whoops, excuse me.  Jews don’t steal, isn’t that right honey.  They just buy cheap.  Blacks steal.  Jews pay shit, which of course is like stealing.  Actually, OUTright stealing is more honest.  Jacques here is an honest thief, one who has acknowledged his genetic inclination to steal while my husband hides behind the Jewish gene that makes him pay so little it is just like stealing.  In fact it is stealing.  But it’s dishonest.  Is that what they mean by Jewish guilt.  You feel guilty for not acknowledging your true nature?  Jesus, I hate my last name.  I hate my last name.  I almost would rather be married to a black gorilla, like Jacques here.  At least Jacques has a penis.  A super jumbo big one, I am sure.  Pulsating for some black woman.

At this point Jacques pulls out a handgun.

Velma:  What is that?  What is that?

Jacques:  I see what you have been talking about, Mr. Weiss.

George:  Yes.  Yes.  Velma has given you one of her performances.

Velma:  What is that gun doing here?  I don’t like guns, George.  I don’t like guns pointing at me.  Is George paying you to do something to me, Jacques?  Because whatever he is paying you, I can pay you more.  I am the one with money.  Not George.

Jacques:  Is that true, Mr. Weiss?

George:  Yes.  It is true.  She can pay you more.

Velma:  Love it.  I love it.  What is it you want?  Name the price, then turn that gun on George and blow his head off.

Jacques:  Mr. Weiss is paying me a thousand dollars.

Velma:  A thousand….you can’t even pay a decent price to murder your wife?  A thousand dollars.  You cheap son of a bitch.  OK.  OK.  I will pay you ten thousand dollars, Jacques.  Ten thousand.  Does that get your fat black lips wet, huh?

Jacques:  Ten thousand?  That is a lot of money.

Velma:  Oh yeah.  Oh yeah, a lot for you.  A lot for you, I am sure.

Jacques then fires the gun, the bullet piercing Velma’s forehead, she falls back, dead and QUIET.  There is a long pause, both men staring at the dead woman.

Jacques:  I trust you will forgive me for temporarily considering a change of plans.  I see that Plan A was the preferred plan.

George:  Do you notice the quiet?

Jacques:  Yes.

George:  I’ve killed her a million times in my head, and now…and now  (starting to well up) …a wood chipper.  You are putting her in a wood chipper?

Jacques:  That is Plan A.

George:  OK. OK.  I guess that will make certain the house stays quiet.  I’ll take back Velma’s jewelry, if you don’t mind.

Jacques:  Yes.  Of course.

Jacques hands the fake jewelry to George.

George:  You know I am not getting ESPN in high def.

Jacques:  No?

George:  And I pay for the high def cable box, so I would like to get it.

Jacques:  You want me to check on it for you now?

George:  There’s a Knicks game on tonight.   You like Chinese?

Jacques:  I prefer sushi.

George:  Velma hated sushi.  Hey, I owe you that thousand.

Jacques:  I didn’t shoot her for the money.  She was giving me a headache.

George:  So you don’t want the thousand?

Jacques:  Your wife was right?

George:  How’s that?

Jacques:  You are cheap.

Jacques pats George on the shoulder as he turns to walk out of the room.  Just before he leaves…

Jacques:  I’ll fix that cable box.  No charge.  And make it sushi.

Jacques leaves George alone, who stares with an empty look at the beautiful and very dead Velma.

THE END.