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Playwright Sidney Bruhl thought he had created the perfect scheme to
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START: Stand very still. We have goodbyes to say. Deathtrap is over. We’re now into theater vérité. The gun from Gunpoint. No blanks as at the dear old Lyceum though, real bullets, courtesy of Messrs. Remington. I loaded it last night, after you were asleep.
[... … …]
END: I’m truly sorry, Cliff. If you hadn’t succumbed to thrilleritis malignis, in what is surely one of the most acute cases on record, who knows, we might actually have become the team of Bruhl and Anderson. As it is, we’ll have to be--only Bruhl. I’m out of dialogue. Your go.
Levin, Ira, Deathtrap, Dramatists Play Service, 1978, p. 61.
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