The Devil's Due

Charming Ham Productions, Since 2021

PRICE's final shot is lined-up. The shot is practically the length of the table and at an incredibly tight angle. PRICE looks on. The PATRONS move closer. FESTER leans in.



Take yourself to a dark corner and lie down. It's for the best.


The room beyond the table is pitch black, the PATRONS stand shoulder to shoulder around PRICE as he aims the shot.



Your kind...


PRICE straightens up.



You take, and take, and take until a husk remains. You despise these people, this place. Their tomorrow? Like you give a shit. Pride is your blindfold as your grotesque appetite swallows the very ground beneath your feet. You're a parasite!


PRICE and FESTER square up.



You present yourself as an intellectual when in fact you are an imbecile. Like an ever-undulating tongue, you writhe in hunger. Your unfettered greed is bottomless. It is without ethics and unsustainable. No matter. As I look you in the eyes, I see a murderer, and despite your hubris, I see that you are empty. Nothing but a nothingness, and you cannot take your ill-gotten-gains back to the black with you.

The din is a cacophony. With haste, PRICE lines-up the shot.



You shall burn in the depths and it'll be an unwanted wretch, no, an abandoned friend, whom sends you there!

The cue ball is struck. It rolls.

The shot is missed.