THE SPY WHO THOUGHT HARD
A status update play for Monday
By David Lee White
Q: Good morning, Bond.
BOND: Morning, Q.
Q: You have received your briefing from M?
BOND: I have. But no time chit-chat. Time is of the essence. Let’s have at it, shall we?
Q: Yes of course, Bond. First things first. On your next mission, you will wear this wristwatch. If necessary, click this button twice and it becomes a high-powered explosive.
BOND: Ah. And why would that be necessary?
Q: In case you need a bomb.
BOND: Why don’t I just use a normal bomb? Why do I have to give up my wristwatch?
Q: Well –
BOND: How will I know what time it is without my wristwatch? And what if I accidentally brush up against something with my wrist and set off the bomb? How am I supposed to concentrate knowing I have a bomb on my wrist? The whole time I’m at the embassy I’m gonna be thinking “Bomb on my wrist, bomb on my wrist…”
Q: Okay. Don’t take the wristwatch.
BOND: THANK YOU! (picks up another object) What’s this?
Q: Lipstick.
BOND: Just lipstick?
Q: Well…no.
BOND: What else is it?
Q: It’s also a bomb.
BOND: Jesus Christ! What is it with you and bombs? You put a bomb in lipstick? Why? To blow up someone’s lips? What is wrong with you?
Q: It’s not the lipstick itself that’s the bomb. It’s the container. You sneak it into a woman’s bedroom…
BOND: When is that supposed to happen? I’m on a mission. Why would I just detour into a woman’s bedroom?
Q: (sigh) Well… I mean… in case you wind up having sex –
BOND: WHAT? Now I have to have sex with someone? Back up! Good God, Q! Let me just review. I’m spying on the diplomat but at some point I’m just supposed to say “Okay, now I think I’ll take a sex break!” Why, why, why would that happen?
Q: Bond, these things are part of the job.
BOND: Oh, well no pressure! Have you ever tried to have sex knowing that afterward you’re just gonna wind up blowing up the room with lipstick? That is a boner-shrinker, my friend!
Q: Really, James.
BOND: No. I’m not taking the lipstick bomb. Fuck you, you psycho. Blow up some woman lips on your own time. Leave me the fuck out of it. What’s next?
Q: A ballpoint pen that shoots out a grappling hook.
BOND: Because that makes so much sense.
Q: Say you’re falling off a mountain and you aren’t tethered to anything –
BOND: Why wouldn’t I be tethered to anything? Do I look like a moron?
Q: It’s hypothetical. I’m just saying pretend.
BOND: Why would I even pretend that? It’s stupid.
Q: Maybe your tethering mechanism has been severed by an enemy agent.
BOND: Which one? Jaws? That guy freaks me out. He’s too tall.
Q: Yes, Jaws.
BOND: Is there something wrong with him? Does he have rickets? Abraham Lincoln had rickets.
Q: I don’t know. So say you’re falling off a mountain. You can take out this pen, aim it at the mountain and shoot out a grappling hook to break your fall.
BOND: Wait. So you think while I’m falling off a mother-effing mountain, I’m going to calmly reach into my breast pocket, pull out a ballpoint pen, aim it at a cluster of rock, fire a shot, secure the line on my first try, then break my fall without snapping my neck and it’s just going to support my weight?
Q: That’s the plan.
BOND: You know what you should call it? The “false hope ballpoint grappling hook.” What a waste of time. If I fall off a mountain, you know what? I’m dead. Let’s not pretend I’m not dead. You know what I’m going to do while I’m falling? I’m going to scream like a sissy. And so would you, you bastard. You really think I’m going to have the wherewithal to take out a ballpoint pen and shoot it at some rocks? What is wrong with you? No seriously. Do you have a mental problem? Where do you come up with this? A ballpoint grappling hook? Wait! Is it also a bomb? I know how much you love them. Please tell me that that I’ll be carrying three bombs on me. That’s so awesome.
Q: You know what? Never mind.
BOND: How many times am I gonna need to blow shit up? And what makes you think I’m just going to randomly go mountain climbing? Is that like randomly having sex?
Q: That’s enough.
BOND: Maybe I’ll go mountain climbing after stopping my mission just to have sex and blow up some woman’s lips with my secret bomb lipstick. And what time will I do that? Fuck, I don’t know. Because why? Because my watch blew up.
(Q presses a button. BOND blows up. The dust settles.)
Q: God, I hate that guy.
END OF PLAY
David Lee White 