Dead man’s switch

Not lost but just gone before

[What looks like the parlor of a small Southern governor’s mansion, with touches of Extended Stay Hotel. Two thirtyish white men, PELLMAN and MENSPHER, wearing seersucker, are reading their phones — PELLMAN in an armchair, MENSPHER stretched out on a divan. A TV on one wall silently plays Fox News. At the far end of the room is a hospital bed with monitors; in the bed, reading Southern Living magazine, is someone in pajamas who looks like MITCH McCONNELL. The door to the house jostles; the men pay it no mind, but PELLMAN and MENSPHER leap to their feet when private investigator ACE “BUCK” GIBSON, a fortyish black man wearing a light beige Buck Mason linen herringbone Hollywood jacket and matching trousers, worsted brown leather belt, and Bass Lexington moc-toe loafers with no socks, and two STATE TROOPERS stride into the room.]

PELLMAN: What the hail is this? Buck Gibson, you got no right to come in here!

GIBSON: You slipped up, fellas. This mansion belongs to Mae Wiggins, a sweet old lady I used to clean up for, and as far as she’s concerned I have the run of the place — and so do my two friends, Officer and Officer!

[GIBSON points to “McCONNELL.”]

Hello! What have we here?

[GIBSON and the TROOPERS walk over to the bed; PELLMAN and MENSPHER sputter and wave their hands.]

MENSPHER: You can’t! Senator McConnell is a very sick man!

[“McCONNELL” who has heretofore been wide-eyed at the incursion, now drops his magazine, tilts his head to one side, and pretends to snore.]

GIBSON: Oh, Senator Mac won’t mind a visit from ol’ Buck. I used to be his caddy.

[GIBSON kisses “McCONNELL” on the forehead, startling him awake; the man speaks in a Foghorn Leghorn voice:]

“McCONNELL”: Whah, whatevah do you mean, suh, inneruptin’ mah re-coop ah say mah re-cooperashun heah! Whh, ah was jes’ talkin’ to Senato’ Borrasso abaht the, uh, uh, ve’y impo’tent bill, the uh Secon’ Amendment Tax-Free Tax-a-geeshee —

[GIBSON rips a wig off “McCONNELL,” revealing dark brown hair.]

GIBSON: Any fool can see this ain’t the real Mitch McConnell. C’mon, talk, ya faker! Who put you up to this?

MENSPHER: Y’all don’t have to say nothin’! We got big lawyers, we got th’ President —

“McCONNELL”: [In a normal, youthful voice, to BUCK] OK! OK! I couldn’t help it, Mister, AI took all the work, please, I can’t go back to prison!

GIBSON: Then talk, man! Where’s the real McConnell?

“McCONNELL”: He’s in the basement!

[PELLMAN and MENSPHER strike miserable attitudes.]

GIBSON: [To PELLMAN and MENSPHER] So, you boys have the old man tied up down there?

PELLMAN: Nothing like that, Buck! Really, it’s all strickly legal!

MENSPHER: We’ll show you.

[CUT TO everybody coming down stairs to a large unfurnished basement, in which what appears to be the naked corpse of MITCH McCONNELL floats in a large glass cylindrical tank full of green fluid; wires are stuck to the body which run through small apertures to a control board. A rat-faced little man wearing a lab coat cowers in a corner.]

GIBSON: Great googly moogly! [Pointing at the rat-faced man] Who’s this dude?

MENSPHER: That’s ol’ Doc Snortem. When Senator Mitch, uh, took poorly, Doc figured out a way to keep him in shape to run the Senate by remote.

GIBSON: Why, he don’t look fit to run a zipper!

MENSPHER: Let me show you. Doc, y’all come over here and show Buck how we get the Speaker to speak.

[SNORTEM scuttles to the control board, revs it up; the green water glows and the corpse’s eyes take on a surprised expression. Some electric “zaps” are heard; the corpse wiggles a bit, and a halting, watery-gargly voice emerges:]

McCONNELL: I agree with Senator Barrasso on the House resolution on voting rights and we will move toward a reconciliation at some point. Also I have heard of the Platner situation and I must say, our friends across the aisle can’t seem to avoid contro-contro-controooooo---

[As he moans McCONNELL’s mouth gapes and his limbs flail; SNORTEM madly swivels dials until the corpse returns to a resting state.]

GIBSON: So this is what Barrasso and them are talking about when they say they’ve been talking to the Leader?

MENSPHER: Yes, and I know how it looks, but the Senators and the Senate Parliamentarian and everybody else tells me it’s perfectly legal. Ain’t that right, Doc?

SNORTEM: [Incomprehensible gibberings]

MENSPHER: It’s kinda technical but you get the gist.

GIBSON: One question: [pointing to the tank] Is the Senator actually alive?

MENSPHER: Well — all I can tell you is, he’s got a birth certificate but he doesn’t have a death certificate.

[PELLMAN holds out a large paper bag.]

PELLMAN: Here’s a big ol’ bag o’ cash.

GIBSON: Why didn’t you say so? Hurrah for ol’ Kentuck!

[Everyone including the TROOPERS laughs and pulls cash out of the bag; the hands of McCONNELL’s corpse, as if by instinct, wanly reach toward it.]