Killer Joe

Tracy Letts

• Publisher: Theatre Communications Group
• Year: 2014
• ISBN:
  9781559367585
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: American Drama
• Index: Literature

"One of our most valuable playwrights."— Time Out New York

"A hideously funny tabloid noir.... Letts' balance of irony and empathy continues to impress."— LA Weekly

A definitively dysfunctional family gives in to its basest instincts and is forced to face hidden truths in this twisted modern-day fairy tale by the Pulitzer Prize–winning author of August: Osage County. Performed in fifteen countries and twelve languages since its 1998 stage debut, Killer Joe is "a terrifically tasty potboiler.... It has the enjoyable hairpin turns of the standard mystery thriller, but it's the skewed shifting relationships that keep you hooked" ( The New York Times ). Now a critically acclaimed film adapted by the playwright and starring Matthew McConaughey.

Tracy Letts is the author of the Pulitzer Prize– and Tony Award–winning play August: Osage County (soon to be a feature film starring Meryl Streep and Julia Roberts). His other plays include Bug, Superior Donuts, and Man from Nebraska, a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize. He is an ensemble member of the Steppenwolf Theatre Company in Chicago as playwright and actor.

ACT TWO

SCENE 1

Lights slowly rise: late at night.

Thunder. Lightning. Footsteps. T-Bone.

Chris unlocks the door, but a metal chain keeps him from opening it. He moans, mutters.

He kicks the door open, snapping the chain off the wall. He staggers inside. His shirt and pants are soaked with blood. One eye is blackened, and blood streams from his nose and mouth.

Suddenly, Joe, naked and holding a gun, grabs Chris’s hair from behind and forces him to the floor.

JOE: ALL RIGHT, GET DOWN THERE NOW! GET DOWN!

CHRIS: I’m sorry! I’m sorry!

(Joe relaxes, foot planted in Chris’s back.)

JOE: Chris . . .

CHRIS: Oh, fuck.

(Sharla, wearing a T-shirt and a pair of men’s underwear, runs in from the hallway. Ansel is behind her.)

SHARLA: What the hell—?

(She turns on the light and Chris’s condition is visible to all of them.)

Good God, what happened—?

ANSEL: You look rough, boy—

JOE: Excuse me.

(Joe exits to Dottie’s bedroom. Sharla and Ansel keep their distance from Chris, examining him from across the room.)

CHRIS: Dad—?

ANSEL: Them old boys caught up to you.

CHRIS: —my hand—

SHARLA: What happened?

CHRIS: I think they broke my hand—

ANSEL: What’d they do to your face—?

CHRIS: I got—

SHARLA: Jesus—

CHRIS: —I got—

ANSEL: You wanna go to the hospital?—

SHARLA: I think he better—

CHRIS: I got beat up—

ANSEL: I can see that—

CHRIS: Oh, God—

(Dottie enters, wearing a robe. She rushes to Chris. Joe emerges again, now wearing a pair of slacks.)

DOTTIE: What happened to you?

CHRIS: Some guys—

DOTTIE (To Sharla): Will you get a wet rag?

CHRIS: —I got beat up—

(Sharla gets a dishrag, soaks it and wrings it out.)

ANSEL: They do all they were goin’ to, or—?

CHRIS: Huh—?

ANSEL: Did they—?

JOE: If they’d wanted to kill him, he’d be dead.

(Sharla gives the dishrag to Dottie, who gently wipes blood from Chris’s face.)

CHRIS: Oh, God—

DOTTIE: Your nose is broken—

JOE: Is that all?

CHRIS: What the fuck, man?—

ANSEL: What’d they say to you?

CHRIS: What the fuck you think they said?

ANSEL: They want their money.

CHRIS: No shit.

SHARLA: You want a beer?

JOE: Where’d they find you?

CHRIS: Wild Bill’s. They jumped me in the parking lot.

ANSEL (Stepping over Chris to turn on TV): D’ja see Bill there?

CHRIS: I don’t . . . I don’t know, why?

ANSEL: He owes me ten bucks.

CHRIS: Christ—

SHARLA: I’m goin’ back to bed—

DOTTIE (To Chris): You sure you don’t wanna go to the hospital?

CHRIS: Yeah, I—

SHARLA: C’mon, Ansel—

DOTTIE: That cut on your head looks pretty deep—

JOE: He’s fine. He just got a whipping.

CHRIS (To Joe): Listen, buddy, I’m—

JOE: No, I’m saying, it could happen to anybody—

ANSEL: We’ll turn in then, I guess—

SHARLA: Ansel, come on—

CHRIS: Just go—

ANSEL: All right—

SHARLA: Good night—

CHRIS: Dottie—

(Sharla exits.)

DOTTIE: You feel any better?—

CHR...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• Production History
• Characters
• Author’s Notes
• A Note to the Players
• Act One
• Act Two
• About the Author