Flight of the Maybug (Script)

ACT 2

HARTLEY: Don't you be shoutin' at me now lad! I'm searchin' half of bloody Germany with that information I am. And I'm sorry to disappoint, but I just don't have that sort of time. I got a Christenin' to attend on Tuesday I do. Nephew, Spencer's his name. Could've chosen a less poofy name than Spencer but I suppose I'm not the one he'll come cryin' to when all the other kids start callin' him Poofy Spencer now am I? Maybe I should start callin' him Poofy Spencer early on. Best case scenario, I toughened him up a bit, worst case, everyone realises how ridiculous a name Spencer is. How 'bout it lad, that a good idea?

WILHELM: Yep, good idea...

HARTLEY: Oh have some integrity lad that's a fuckin' awful idea! What sort of uncle would I be if my nephew's first memories of me was of calling him a poof?

Pause.

HARTLEY: That is a legitimate question lad, what kinda man would I be?

WILHELM: Not a good one-

HARTLEY: A fuckin' awful one at that! Unbelievable. See now that there's the difference 'tween you and me. I may have to do bad things every now and then, but deep down, I'm a good man I am. Whereas you, you do bad things every now and then, but deep down, you're worse than the fuckin' things you do! And now look, got me usin' vulgar language you have!

Pause.

WILHELM: Sorry.

HARTLEY: Ah, don't be so hard on yourself. 'Tis not your fault God made you a cunt.

Pause.

WILHELM: Whose is it then?

HARTLEY: Eh?

WILHELM: Whose fault is it that God made me a cunt?

HARTLEY: I don't know, do I look a priest?! Not me job to be tellin' you where your shortcomings come from.

Pause.

HARTLEY: How many did you kill lad?

WILHELM: Technically, I didn't kill anyone.

Lieutenant Hartley opens the diary, turning to the last few pages.

HARTLEY: Says here 37 degrees Celsius be normal body temperature, aye? Put 'em in water with a temperature of 4.5 degrees and they die with a body temperature of 27.8 degrees Celsius. Now, tell me lad, at what temperature was you planin' on pullin' these poor souls out?

Pause.

WILHELM: When they died...

Lieutenant Hartley closes the diary.

HARTLEY: Well seems you and me has got very different definitions on what it is to be killin' people now.

Lieutenant Hartley takes another bite of his crumpet.

HARTLEY: Don't get me wrong, couldn't give a mare's trotter 'bout them Jews, scum of the Earth if you ask me. Churchill didn't want 'em, Roosevelt didn't want 'em, I daresay if one of them little thieves came knockin' at my door I'd give 'em right back to you I would!

Pause.

HARTLEY: Not you specifically mind, not that cruel. Give 'em to one of them special camps you had. Speakin' of, absolute genius you ask me, couldn't have done it better ourselves! Almost a shame you lot lost so early! Were up to me I'd given you a few more years, let you rid the lot of 'em! But, history do as does, and now here I am, bastion of the moral high ground, protectin' the realm from degenerate scum like you. Scum who has no problem killin' wee little children. That's right, I read the report I did, not surprised you up and legged it. Evil, pure evil what you did to them kids. Do you even know how many of them little fellas you killed?