Death is a Salesman

      This is my one act play. I played off the famous "Death of a Salesman" title and spun it into my own play. I wasn't sure where it was going to go when I started, and by the time I got to the end, I found myself appalled at how pessimistic it seemed. However, all in all, I found it a pretty fun piece to write. Enjoy!

Scene I

Scene is revealed. It is misty and out of focus, but the spotlight slowly zeros in on Death, dressed like the Grim Reaper, mumbling into a telephone with both feet kicked up on a desk. He is smoking a Cuban cigar; his scythe is leaning against a hat rack.
DEATH: What do you mean not ready yet?! (DEATH listens intently)

(Squeaky voices are heard on the other line)

DEATH: Listen, this is not how things must be? I’m sure we could work something out . . . (he trails off)

(Squeaky voices are heard on the other line)

DEATH: (sharply) Meet me tomorrow in the square. Don’t be late.

Scene. All fades to black

Scene II

Scene opens. There is an old clock tower looming behind center stage. An audio track of bustling people is heard. Many people are rushing on and off stage except two. The first is a man, near fifty years of age and balding; age has not treated him well, and the audience can see him wheezing uncontrollably. The second is DEATH who is lurking in the shadow of the clock tower. He makes a summoning gesture with his bony hands toward the man. The man limps toward DEATH.

DEATH: You’re late, Bill. (He nods toward the clock)

BILL: *coughs* Deepest apologies. The trains were backed up for a while because of some suicide and—

(DEATH cuts him off)

DEATH: I cannot be troubled with your mundane problems. Blame the suicidal girl; Sally, I think it was.

(DEATH opens his robes, reaches inside its shadowy depths and produces a ball of light, Sally)

(BILL, horrified, shies away from the glowing orb)

BILL: No! Stop put that away! I do not doubt your abilities. You need not show off. All I want is more time.

DEATH: Very well then. (He places Sally back into his robes) So how much time is it that you want?

BILL: A year, that is all I ask of you. It is just enough time to say my goodbyes and watch my dear Samantha graduate from high school. Please, I’m begging you.

DEATH: You want a year? It’ll cost you roughly thirty years indentured to me.

BILL: *gasp* I cannot! I’m sorry my dear Samantha! Forgive me, but I simply cannot follow through with such a heinous—

(DEATH cuts him off)

DEATH: Oh! Did I say thirty years? Oh no, no, no. Silly me, I meant twenty years. Yes, and if you act now I’ll throw in an innovative formula for hair regeneration—effective in Life and in Death!

BILL: Samantha, forgive me! I’m sorry, but twenty years is too—

(DEATH cuts him off)

DEATH: BILL, Billy, may I call you Billy? I have certain, say, quotas to meet. Do you hear me? You are going to have an eternity on the Other Side is ten years really such a hassle? And, just for you, I’ll even throw in an extra month to see your darling Samantha off to college.

BILL: Hmmm... You make everything sound so reasonable. I think we have a deal.

DEATH: Excellent! (He reaches his hand out)

BILL: (shakes DEATH’s bony hand and drops dead)

Scene. All fades to black.

Scene III

Scene opens. DEATH is sitting at his desk once again, feet set nonchalantly upon it. His scythe is again leaned against a hat rack and he is smoking another Cuban. There is a glowing orb floating above his desk.

DEATH: (aside) Billy, oh foolish Billy. You cannot cheat DEATH. I am no fool. (He grasps the orb) Sleep tight, Billy. (He hisses before he shoves orb in his robe)

Scene. All fades to black.