Death For Dinner
Death gets an unexpected reception from a couple of soon-to-be-corpses.Shot of house standing alone on damp, windy plains, shrouded in mist. DEATH is seen striding out of the layers of mist in slow motion, to dramatic music. The shots keep switching back to a couple having dinner inside, the music stopping each time it does so. Eventually, DEATH rings the doorbell, and there is a musical jingle. MAN opens it.
MAN: Yes?
DEATH: It is time.
MAN: Er... about half seven, I think.
DEATH: No, it is time.
MAN: I just told you, half seven.
DEATH: No, not 'What's the time?', 'It is time'.
MAN: Oh right, sorry, a bit hard to hear you with that hood.
DEATH and MAN stand in silence for a bit.
MAN: Er, what was it again?
DEATH: It is time!
MAN: For what exactly? Are you selling something?
DEATH: I have come to guide you to the spectral plains of the afterlife.
MAN: Sorry, I don't think we want any of those. So if that's all...
DEATH: You do not understand. I am the Grim Reaper. Death.
MAN: And I'm very sorry to hear that, but we're just in the middle of dinner now, so if you could -
WIFE comes to the door.
WIFE: Who's this, dear?
MAN: Er - not sure, he's selling some sort of guided tours.
DEATH: I am Death.
WIFE: (to Man) He's deaf? Oh, the poor dear.
DEATH: No, no, I am Death.
WIFE: How lovely! Well come in, you don't want to be standing out there in the cold, do you now.
DEATH: We really ought to be -
WIFE: Not at all, please come in. Let me take this sycthe from you, here you go.
WIFE takes the sycthe, and puts it in umbrella stand.
DEATH, MAN and WIFE step inside the dining room.
WIFE: (to Man) Don't just stand there, David, ask him if he wants a drink!
MAN: Er, would you like a drink, Mr. Death?
DEATH: Death has no need for material consumption.
MAN: Not even a sherry? Glass of wine? Beer? We've had some lovely ale in this summer.
DEATH: No.
DEATH, MAN, and WIFE stand in silence.
MAN: So, Mr. Death here was telling me that he's a Reaper.
WIFE: A reaper? How wonderful, you don't see many of those these days, do you?
DEATH: Not a reaper. The Grim Reaper.
WIFE: Well I do hope you get better soon.
DEATH: We have no time for this, we must be leaving now.
WIFE: Excuse me? We?
DEATH: Yes, I am the Grim Reaper, and I have come to take you to the afterlife.
WIFE: The afterlife, eh? That sounds lovely!
MAN: Yes, but unfortunately we're in the middle of our dinner now, so could this wait a minute or two?
DEATH: Death waits for no-one.
WIFE: Not even a few minutes?
DEATH: No.
MAN: So where is this afterlife place, then? Do we have to pay anything?
DEATH: The only price is death.
WIFE: Special offer on, is there?
MAN: Did you say 'death'? Oh, I see! So you're saying we're about to die, and you're the Grim Reaper, come to take us to the afterlife!
DEATH: Yes!
WIFE: I'm glad we've got that cleared up. So we're going to die, are we?
DEATH: Soon, yes.
WIFE: How exciting! It's exciting, isn't it, David?
MAN: Yes, dear.
WIFE: So how do we die exactly?
DEATH: Food poisoning.
WIFE: David! You told me this meat was fresh!
MAN: Sorry, dear, the butcher said it was.
WIFE: I'll give him a right talking to tomorrow, you wait and see!
DEATH: You don't seem to understand. You are about to die. After death, there is no going back.
WIFE: We couldn't just pop back for a minute or two?
DEATH: Absolutely not. Death is final.
WIFE: Ah.
DEATH, MAN, and WIFE wait.
WIFE: Any time soon?
DEATH: Any second now.
DEATH, MAN, and WIFE wait longer.
MAN: You're sure you've got the right house?
DEATH: I think so, yes.
DEATH, MAN, and WIFE wait.
DEATH: Let me just check.
DEATH takes out a notebook, and starts flipping through it.
DEATH: Monday, 7th of July, yes... the House on the Hill, yes, that's right... let's see... Mr and Mrs Brown, food poisoning, yes I'm certain this is the right place.
MAN: Oh, right then.
DEATH and WIFE wait. MAN starts whistling to pass the time.
DEATH: Listen - if I were to just hurry the process along a bit, you wouldn't mention it back at the afterlife, would you?
WIFE: Not at all.
DEATH: Thanks ever so much, just wait a minute, I'll get my sycthe.
The camera follows DEATH as he walks out and gets it. DEATH then comes back in, and sees the empty seats and the open window.
DEATH: Damn.
THE END
| Posted by dr_sauronus on September 2, 2003 with category tags of Skit |
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Written by dr_sauronus
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