DMV

CAST:

Doris – Woman, Fifties

Albert Einstein – Fifties, German accent.

Rene Descartes – Thirties, French accent.

Martin Luther King – Forties, African American.

Man with long hair, beard, wearing a white robe – Thirty.

SETTING:

A utilitarian DMV office in anytown, USA.

SCENE:

Doris is behind a window with a counter facing to the side of the stage at the Division of Motor Vehicles. She’s wearing a uniform shirt and a nametag. To the left are some chairs facing the audience. Four of the chairs are occupied by four men obscured by books, pamphlets or newspapers.

Doris:

Rene Des-Car-Tess…Miss Des-Car-Tess!

A man puts down his newspaper and looks toward the window. He shakes his head dismissively, gets up and moves to the window.

 

Descartes:

Excusez-moi, Madame. Might you possibly be calling for Descartes?

Doris:

Sorry, but you’ll have to wait your turn. I’m looking for a woman named Rene.

(She leans to see around him.)

Rene Des-Car-Tess, last call.

Descartes:

Madame, I assure you that I am indeed the person you seek. My name is Rene Descartes. I am originally from France so your pronunciation of my name was a bit confusing.

Doris:

A Frenchy, huh? I suppose your parents must have really wanted a girl. So you’re here for a license I’m guessing?

Descartes:

Oui, Madame. I cannot wait to get out onto your Interstate Highway system and cogito, ergo zoom!

(He thrusts his hand through the air to indicate zooming.)

Doris:

(Stares, unamused.)

First, I’m gonna have to see some proof of residence…Rene.

Descartes:

I have a passport and I have a copy of my lease from my landlord.

Doris:

Can’t you read?

(She points up to a sign above the window.)

Descartes:

(Looks up and reads the sign)

It says that you require two forms of identification.

(He holds up the two documents.)

Doris:

Two forms of proof of residence.

 Descartes:

I do not wish to be difficult, but that is not what the sign asks for. The only other document I have is my Library Card and it does not contain my address. I can assure you, that they were nearly as diligent as yourself with regard to my local residence.

Doris:

Great…a reader. Well, listen to this, genius, there’s plenty of room at the end of the line.

She reaches under the counter and hands him a document.

Doris:

Here’s the test. Slide down the counter. You have twenty minutes.

Descartes:

(Cautiously) Madame Doris, you do not, by chance have the examination in Francois…I mean in French?

Doris angrily takes his test and puts it under the counter. She slams down a different one.

Descartes:

Merci.

He looks at the test as he begins to slide down the counter (away from the audience) but stops and leans back toward the window.

Descartes:

Pardon, but zis is not French, Madame.

Doris:

It’s Creole. We get a lot of Hattians in here and it’s as close to French as we got…Next!

Descartes shrugs and slides down the counter.

Doris:

Ein-steen! I’m looking for Albert Ein-steen!

Albert puts down his book and walks to the counter.

 Einstein:

Guten tag, Fraulein. I am curious. Ze first half of my name has the same letter combination, e-i, as ze second half, yet you pronounce zem differently.

 

Doris:

My sincere apologies Een-steen. How’s about you quit wastin’ my time?

Einstein:

Oh, I assure you, zat I have no intention to vaist your time, in fact, I can save you many hours by applying queueing theory to your operation.

(Points toward the lines.)

I’m sure that you can see zat zis is quite inefficient.

Doris:

If you don’t get to your DMV business you’re gonna be moved from ZIS window to the end of ZAT line, Buster.

Einstein:

Of course, of course. I vould like to order a vanity license plate.

Doris:

Doris huffs and grabs a form.

What do you want it to say?

Einstein:

E-eqvals-M-C-sqvared.

Doris:

What the Hell does that mean? It’s nothing dirty is it? Some clown tried to slip BVR-ETR past me once.

Einstein:

I do not verstehen…understand.

Doris:

Beaver Eater. I figure with a moustache like that—

Einstein:

Please, zis is too much information. E=MC² is a formula zat I am particularly proud of.

Doris:

Well we ain’t got no squares on the list.

Einstein:

Nein, nein—

Doris:

Nine, we got.

Einstein:

Ach! No, it is not a sqvare. Sqvared uses an exponent. A smaller integer raised above zee others.

Doris:

Look, moron, these are all the characters we got.

(She slaps down a document.)

Slide down and pick something off this list or get out. Next!

Einstein sheepishly takes the paper and slides toward Descartes.

Doris:

King! Marty King!

Martin Luther King puts down his legal pad and moves to the window.

King:

(Speechy.)

Good afternoon, my good woman. I am here on a mission and I hope that I can be blessed by your gracious assistance.

Doris:

(Sweetly.)

Oh, how nice…You know what they say…flattery will get you…(turning angry) to the end of the line!

King:

(Stepping back in surprise.)

Yes, ma’am. I just received my license in the mail and it says “Marty King”.

He hands her the license.

Doris:

So, according to your license here, you are Marty King.

King does a double take in shock as both Einstein and Descartes look up, lean back, and look shocked as well. King turns toward them and shrugs demonstratively. Einstein and Descartes shake their heads in bewilderment and go back to their documents.

King:

But…um…that’s not how my name appeared on my application.

She looks up at the ceiling in exasperation. She grabs another form and slams it down in front of her.

Doris:

Okay, let’s have it. I don’t have all day.

King:

Thank you, ma’am. It’s Reverend…Doctor…Martin…Luther…King…Junior.

Doris:

(Slams down her pen.)

Are you trying to be funny, pal?

King:

Ma’am?

Doris:

She holds up the license.

Do you see this? It’s three inches wide and a third of that is used for the picture. Can you explain how to cram all of that into this amount of space, Marty?

Einstein and Descartes both turn toward Doris and each raises a finger to answer.

Doris:

Don’t start with me, nerds!

King:

I’m not sure how to shorten it. I already left off Nobel Laureate.

Doris:

(With frustration, Doris outstretches her arms.)

Jesus Christ, Almighty!

Young man puts down his paper, jumps up and runs to the window.

Man with long hair, beard, wearing a white robe:

That’s me! Can I take my driver’s test in Aramaic?

Doris shakes her head and picks up a sign that says “NEXT WINDOW”.

 

Copyright

© Robert O’Connell and http://www.thesmartestguyiknow.wordpress.com, 2011-2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Robert O’Connell and http://www.thesmartestguyiknow.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.