Setting: Basement of a house, the two twelve-year olds are in sleeping bags with flashlights, their flashlights are on, pointing, randomly at different audience members.
Thane: (scared) That was it!
T: That scratching sound.. scritch... scritch...
M: I didn't hear anything.
T: Scritch, scritch, scritch... like three fast then two slow scritches... scritch.... scritch...
M: That's your cat!
T: Nuh-uh! My cat has no claws!
M: Cats have claws.
T: Not mine, we had 'em removed.
M: Ouch! I bet that fuckin' hurts!
T: Dude, no swearing... if my Mom catches you... you'll be in such deep poop!
M: O.K. Sorry...
T: There it was again! Scritch!
M: Why don't we turn the lights on?
T: You think we should?
M: Well, if you're gonna be a sissy all night.
T: You do it!
M: Man, now we can't use these awesome flashlights.
T: Hey, I'm just being safe!
(Mort is standing at a light switch, lights come up on the room, seated in an easy chair on the other side of the stage is Thane's Dad, Randy. He is sharpening a very large knife on a rectangular whetstone. Scritch, scritch, scritch... scritch... scritch.)
Randy: (shielding eyes from the bright lights) Hey! Turn those lights off!
R: Hey, now. Thane. Mort. You two just go to sleep. I've got everything covered on this end.
M: That's a nice knife, Mr. Andreks.
R: Well thanks, Mort. It's seen me through some really big jobs before; gotta keep it sharp.
M: I'll bet.
R: Never know when something might need cuttin'.
M: Yeah, like what?
R: Oh, big things.
R: You boys hit those lights, and get to sleepin' now.
(Mort turns off lights, business while they get into their sleeping bags, the scritch sounds start up again, goes for a few beats)
T: Oh, Dad? We're taking Mort to the water park with us tomorrow, right?
R: (scritching stops, pause) Sure, Thane. Sure we will. (scritching starts again)