LITTLE BOY–J. WEINTRAUB
CHARACTERS
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR, woman in her late twenties, early thirties, dressed in formal
business wear.
CIA DIRECTOR, middle-aged man in his late forties, early fifties, dressed in formal business
wear.
PRESIDENT, male, middle-aged or slightly elderly, dressed in formal business wear. He is a
generalized version of former President Trump, but not a parody (i.e., he is a fictionalized
version of the President, with some Trumpian characteristics).
LITTLE BOY, male, dressed in black, with a hefty physique capable of dominating the stage.
OPTIONAL: a sign or placard identifying him to the audience as “Little Boy” can be hung
around his neck. (A replica or mock-up of the bomb “Little Boy” could replace an actor,
although its ticking—its dialogue—would have to be associated with it.)
SETTING
The White House Oval Office. Circa 2017. Furnishing can be sparse or even nonexistent, with
the exception of a heavy desk at center stage, on which LITTLE BOY sits. A phone is in one
corner.
(The Oval Office, an executive desk at center
stage on which sits LITTLE BOY, cross-legged. A
phone is in one corner. COMMUNICATIONS
DIRECTOR enters from stage right, opening and
closing the door behind her. She looks around for a
moment, perhaps rearranging some things, then
freezes upon sighting LITTLE BOY.)
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: What the hell?!
(Approaching LITTLE BOY she cautiously,
tentatively touches his shoulder.)
LITTLE BOY: Tick, tick, tick, tick . . .
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: Oh my goodness. What have I done? Stop. (Raises voice) Stop it! STOP IT!!
LITTLE BOY: Tick, Tick, TICK, TICK! TICK!! . . . .
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: (lowers voice). Stop it. Sshhh. . . I’m sorry I touched you, sorry I raised my voice. Please, stop it, please. . .
LITTLE BOY: Tick, tick, tick, . . . tick . . . .
(Once LITTLE BOY stops, she calls offstage.)
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: Mr. Director. Could you come inside the Oval Office for a moment, please.
PRESIDENT (O.S.): Are we ready for my photo shoot yet?
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: Not yet, Mr. President. In just a moment. Mr. Director. Could you please come here inside. It’s very important.
(Enter CIA DIRECTOR.)
CIA DIRECTOR: Ok, what’s so important? Do you want me to check for bugs or something?
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: Look around a bit, sir. Do you see anything unusual?
CIA DIRECTOR: The Jackson portrait looks a little off-center. Do you think someone’s been tampering with it?
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: The desk. Look at the desk.
CIA DIRECTOR: (suddenly spotting LITTLE BOY). Oh my God! What’s that doing here?
(He approaches LITTLE BOY, as if to touch him.)
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: (shouting) DON’T TOUCH IT!!
LITTLE BOY: Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick . . .
CIA DIRECTOR: What’s happening?
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: (lowering voice). I mean, don’t touch it. Just back off slowly, and quietly . . . .
LITTLE BOY: Tick, tick . . . tick. . .
CIA DIRECTOR: (having retreated back to stage right}. Does it do that often?
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: It only started up when I touched it.
CIA DIRECTOR: (loudly, in shock). YOU TOUCHED IT!!
LITTLE BOY: Tick, Tick, Tick. . .
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: Sshh. Quiet. When I touched it and when I raised my voice. It’s sensitive to sound, too.
LITTLE BOY: Tick, tick . . . tick. . .
CIA DIRECTOR: Well, apparently you’ve activated it, and with each tick it may be getting closer to ignition.
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: Ignition? You mean it really might be a bomb?
CIA DIRECTOR: What’s it look like to you? Don’t you recognize it?
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: Should I?
CIA DIRECTOR: That parachute tail assembly, those contact fuses up front, that radar antennae, its distinctive shape. There’s not an agent in the CIA who wouldn’t recognize it at once.
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: I’m the Communications Director here, sir. I was an English major.
CIA DIRECTOR: It’s Little Boy.
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: Little Boy?
CIA DIRECTOR: The bomb we dropped on Hiroshima. That’s what it is. A few were stockpiled just after the war.
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: So, what’s it doing here in the Oval Office?
CIA DIRECTOR: How should I know?
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: Well, you are the Director of the CIA, aren’t you?
CIA DIRECTOR: One can’t know everything.
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: Do you think it might be some kind of joke?
CIA DIRECTOR: The CIA does not have a sense of humor . . . especially in the matter of nuclear warheads.
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: You think it might be functional, then?
CIA DIRECTOR: It ticks, doesn’t it?
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: The President’s just outside. Shouldn’t we get him into the bunker downstairs?
CIA DIRECTOR: That bunker’s built to take a lot, but not a direct, ground-zero hit from a nuclear warhead, even one as primitive as Little Boy. I’ll call in Marine One right now. But I want the President to see this, too. Decisions will have to be made. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see that his helicopter arrives on the South Lawn asap.
(He exits then soon returns with PRESIDENT.)
PRESIDENT: Now are you going to tell me what’s so important you had to cancel my photo shoot.
CIA DIRECTOR: Look around.
PRESIDENT: What? Where? What am I supposed to be looking for?
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: The desk. On top of your desk.
PRESIDENT: What the . . . what the . . . ?
(He rushes over as if about to touch LITTLE BOY.)
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR & CIA DIRECTOR: (loudly and forcefully) DON’T TOUCH IT!!
LITTLE BOY: Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick . . .
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR & CIA DIRECTOR: (to each other, now quietly). Sshh. . . quiet . . . quiet. . . .
LITTLE BOY: Tick, Tick, tick . . . tick . . .
PRESIDENT: (after a moment of astonishment). Can somebody here please tell me what’s going on?
CIA DIRECTOR: We think it might be a bomb, sir. A nuclear device, in fact. I’ve already alerted Quantico, and Marine One will be here any minute now to fly you out of danger.
PRESIDENT: But what’s it doing in my Oval Office? Who’s responsible for this?
CIA DIRECTOR: I really can’t say for sure, sir. But the more I think about, the more I believe the Russians . . . .
PRESIDENT: The Russians? Vladimir would never do such a thing.
CIA DIRECTOR: It’s an exact replica of Little Boy, the bomb we dropped on Hiroshima. The Soviet Union stole the design from us when they were our allies and produced a bunch of them themselves after the war. I really can’t think of anyone else who might have a device of that kind.
PRESIDENT: You can’t trust anyone, can you? Well, I’m going to get to the bottom of this.
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: What’re you thinking of doing, Mr. President?
PRESIDENT: I’m going to call Vladimir direct, that’s what I’m going to do. But first I need the football. Get me my football!
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: Yes, sir, Mr. President.
(She exits stage right.)
CIA DIRECTOR: What do you need the nuclear football for? Certainly you’re not thinking of launching. . . .
PRESIDENT: No, of course not. I just like to have the launch codes by my side when I’m
discussing important matters with another head of state. I find it comforting to know that,
whenever I’m in a negotiation, I can vaporize the other side with just the push of a button.
CIA DIRECTOR: It’s not a button.
PRESIDENT: Whatever.
(COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR enters with a
large black briefcase and hands it to PRESIDENT,
who walks towards the phone on the desk. As he
approaches. . . .)
LITTLE BOY: Tick, Tick, TICK, TICK . . .
CIA DIRECTOR: The football! The football! It’s sensitive to the football! We’ve got to get it out of here!
(PRESIDENT retreats and hands or tosses the
briefcase, as if it were radioactive, to CIA
DIRECTOR who, barely touching it, hands/tosses it
to COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR who quickly
exits with it stage right.)
LITTLE BOY: Tick, Tick, tick . . . tick . . . .
PRESIDENT: My God, what if we’d opened the black box and initiated THE LAUNCH SEQUENCE!
LITTLE BOY: (as if in affirmation). Tick, Tick, tick . . .
PRESIDENT: Shouldn’t we go to the South Lawn and wait for Marine One out there?
CIA DIRECTOR: If that thing goes off, it won’t matter if you’re on the South Lawn or a mile in the air. Besides, I’ve got an idea about what you can say to Vladimir. Just ask him if he’s missing one of his nuclear devices, an early one, an outdated one, like Little Boy. He’ll deny it, of course. But he’ll know that we suspect, no, that we know it belongs to him, and that he’s responsible for this outrage. And the implied threat of an instant reprisal if it should detonate will be hanging over his head.
PRESIDENT: That’s pretty clever. Now I know why I appointed you Director of the CIA. Only
a real spook could come up with something like that.
CIA DIRECTOR: Thank you, Mr. President.
(PRESIDENT approaches the desk cautiously. He
picks up the receiver and presses a button.)
PRESIDENT: Hello. . . . Yes . . . Yes. . . Vladimir, how are you . . . What’s that? You’re glad I called? . . . You wanted to ask me something? You want to know if we’re missing one of our nuclear devices, an early one, a Little Boy, in fact? (PRESIDENT pulls the phone from his ear, covering the receiver with his hand.) By God, He’s got one, too. . . ! (He returns the phone to his ear.) No, of course not. What would make you say something like that? . . . What’s that? (He pulls the phone down again.) He wants to know why I called him.
CIA DIRECTOR: Tell him you wanted to congratulate him on his latest triumph.
PRESIDENT: What triumph?
CIA DIRECTOR: Don’t worry. He’ll fill in the blank.
PRESIDENT: (He returns the phone to his ear.) I just wanted to congratulate you on your latest triumph . . . Oh, good!. . . Think nothing of it. And again, congratulations! (He returns the phone to the receiver).
(COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR enters.)
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: Mr. President, I just got this message from the Chinese Ambassador. He wants to know if we’ve misplaced one of our nuclear devices, in particular, one that goes back to—and I’m not too sure I have the correct translation here— that goes back to our honorable ancestors?
PRESIDENT: I think I’ll go to the South Lawn now and wait for Marine One out there.
CIA DIRECTOR: Just a minute, sir. We need to do something about Little Boy here.
PRESIDENT: Well, what do you suggest?
CIA DIRECTOR: First I think we need to call in a team from the Nuclear Security Administration. They’ll let us know if Little Boy is a dud or the real thing . . . . But if in the unlikely case we can’t neutralize it, it will probably be too sensitive to risk moving it very far, so I suggest calling in the Army Engineers to drill beneath the White House, and when we’ve dug a hole deep enough, we’ll carefully, very carefully lower Little Boy into it and seal it tight.
PRESIDENT: And what will we tell Congress and the public?
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: Well, you’ve been talking about renovating the Oval Office, haven’t you?
PRESIDENT: Right you are. It seems every cloud has a silver lining, or rather a golden one. I’ve been thinking about new gold-leaf wall paper. What do you think?
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: Gold-leaf seems like a splendid idea to me, sir.
PRESIDENT: And be sure to have Quantico send a follow-up copter with my golf clubs.
(He exits.)
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: I don’t know. Shouldn’t we tell the public something a little closer to the truth, particularly if we have to implement your Plan B? That’s going to take an awful lot of time and cause considerable disruption.
CIA DIRECTOR: You’re suggesting that we report to Congress and to the public that we might have to bury a live nuclear device beneath our very feet, one that might very well blow us all to smithereens if we make even the slightest attempt to launch our own nuclear arsenal for whatever reason?
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: Wow. That really sounds pretty crazy. No one would ever believe such a thing.
CIA DIRECTOR: Exactly. No one would ever believe such a thing.
COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR: Renovation it is, then, at least for the time being . . .
CIA DIRECTOR: Right. And don’t forget the gold-leaf wallpaper.
(They both exit stage right. As the lights dim, the
whirr of helicopter blades is heard hovering over the
White House, close enough and loud enough, in
fact, almost to make the walls vibrate.)
LITTLE BOY: Tick, Tick, tick . . . tick . . .
Blackout. End of Play.
***
A member of the Dramatists Guild, J. Weintraub has had one-act plays and staged readings produced throughout the United States and in Australia, New Zealand, India, and Germany. He has published fiction, essays, and poetry in all sorts of literary places, from The Massachusetts Review to Modern Philology and, as a translator he has introduced the Italian horror writer Nicola Lombardi to the English speaking-public. His two-act adaptation of Carlo Goldoni’s canonical Villeggiatura trilogy, The Summer Season, was recently published in The Mercurian: A Theatrical Translation Review and can be read online. More at https://jweintraub.weebly.com/