HOODOO CHILD
by Tim Bauer

directed by Lauren English
Featuring Christian Whitaker and Emily Rosenthal

At rise: NARRATOR, male, in a
suit and fedora, and CARRIE,
female, in a cute pink dress.
NARRATOR
Once upon a time, in the deepest part of the darkest part of
the dankest part of a city called Saint Louis Moe, there
lived a girl named Carrie.
CARRIE
With an “i.e.” That is, “i.e.” as in, “that is.”
NARRATOR
And while there was no way that one could say Carrie was the
most beautiful girl in all the land, nor even the second most
beautiful, nor the third —
CARRIE
I’m certainly not perfect; i.e., my thighs are too big and my
breasts are too small and my eyes are too wide apart.
NARRATOR
— still, any objective measure of Carrie’s charms on a
strictly physical basis would put her in the top 1%.
CARRIE
Give or take.
NARRATOR
Now, as everyone knows, the Greater Saint Louis Area has a
population of 2.8 million. If the top 1% could rightly be
called her near-equal, that put Carrie firmly in the top
twenty-eight thousand, eight hundred and twelve.
CARRIE
Give or take. But since all 28 thousand of us were rarely
ever actually in the same building —
NARRATOR
— what with Saint Louis Moe being not only deep and dark and
dank but also large and wide and scoring poorly on the
walkability index —
CARRIE
— few of us were ever in the same room at the same time.
NARRATOR
And so, for all practical purposes, Carrie was often the
cutest girl in the room.
Carrie beams, cutely.
1.
NARRATOR
As a certified hottie —
CARRIE
— with an “i.e.” —
NARRATOR
— Carrie found certain things were expected of her.
CARRIE
My friends, for example —
NARRATOR
— had to be part of the 1%.
CARRIE
My clothes, for example —
NARRATOR
— had to come close enough to matching what the 1% wore, so
that Carrie would fit in with Nicole and Jenny and Bronwyn
and Michelle and Kelia and Britney and Brooke and Mai-Lee,
but not so close that any of the other girls could say they
were all looking a little…matchy-matchy.
CARRIE
And my music —
NARRATOR
Ah, yes, her music. You see, while Nicole and Jenny and
Bronwyn and Michelle and Kelia and Britney and Brooke and Mai-
Lee all liked music one might describe as
CARRIE
poppy
NARRATOR
chirpy
CARRIE
bubble-gummy
NARRATOR
excessively buoyant and relentlessly catchy, Carrie herself
preferred music that roared with a righteous fury and primal
urgency. Music that was loud
CARRIE
thrashy
NARRATOR
uninviting
2.
CARRIE
well, maybe for weak-eared chumps, but for anybody who’s ever
jammed to Zeppelin or Deep Purple or even Cheap Trick, it
could more properly be called
NARRATOR
music that fucking rocked.
Carrie beams, cutely.
NARRATOR
Most of the time, there was never a problem. Most of the
time, Carrie could pretend.
CARRIE
I.E., say “Katy Perry and Justin Bieber and Lady Gaga and
Taylor Swift” —
NARRATOR
— when clearly the answer would be —
CARRIE
— “Iron Maiden and AC/DC and Jimi Hendrix and Metallica.”
NARRATOR
And for most of the time, this was never a problem.
CARRIE
Until most of the time came to an end.
NARRATOR
And talent show time came to a head.
CARRIE
Nicole told Jenny, and Jenny told Bronwyn, and Bronwyn told
Michelle, and nobody told Kelia and Britney and Brooke and
Mai-Lee because they always do what Nicole tells Jenny to
tell Bronwyn to tell Michelle
NARRATOR
that they were going to perform. And Carrie suddenly
pictured
CARRIE
nine girls gathered around one microphone singing “Girls Just
Wanna Have Fun”
NARRATOR
or
CARRIE
nine girls around one microphone singing “Rock Lobster”
3.
NARRATOR
or
CARRIE
nine girls around one microphone singing anything really
NARRATOR
and she knew what to do.
CARRIE
The first thing you gotta do is trim your fingernails down as
close as you can. You get some old chicken bones, and you
paint them black. And you take them bones, and your old
guitar, down to the loneliest crossroads on the outskirts of
town.
NARRATOR
And at the stroke of midnight, she played the prettiest riff
she’d ever played.
CARRIE
And sure enough, by the by, he appeared. I.E., the Devil
himself. And he said —
NARRATOR
Proposals needed to be in by 5 p.m.
CARRIE
But. But.
NARRATOR
Proposals need to be written up in triplicate and submitted,
in writing, by 5 p.m. Then I review them from 5 p.m. to 10
p.m. and midnight is when I choose. It’s on the website.
CARRIE
Choose me.
NARRATOR
I’d be bending the rules.
CARRIE
You’re the Devil.
NARRATOR
And you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.
CARRIE
I’m just one in twenty-eight thousand, eight hundred and
twelve.
NARRATOR
You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen here.
4.
CARRIE
I’ve got a contract all ready to sign.
NARRATOR
And the Devil, being only human, was won over by her charms,
and her preparations, and her pleading. And seeing as she
was the only one to actually take the time to paint her
chicken bones black, he relented, and chose her contract, and
signed it, sight unseen.
CARRIE
And so it came to the next day.
NARRATOR
And so it came time for the initial public performance of Cat
O’ Nine Tails, for this was the name the girls decided on —
CARRIE
— by a vote of 8 to 1.
NARRATOR
And moments before the band was to go on, the Devil came to
claim his prize, as the Devil is wont to do. “Give me your
soul,” he said to Carrie. But Carrie shook her head.
CARRIE
“Read the fine print,”
NARRATOR
Carrie said. And lo, the Devil did see the deal was not for
Carrie’s soul. Nay. It was for the soul of Nicole. And
Jenny. And Bronwyn. And Michelle. And Kelia and Britney
and Brooke and Mai-Lee. And in exchange, Carrie would be
free.
CARRIE
To melt people’s faces with the power of rock.
A super-loud, hard-rocking riff
from the middle of AC/DC’s
“Highway to Hell” starts up, and
Carrie does the most badass air
guitar for about 30 seconds,
until lights and music fade.
END OF PLAY
5

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