I’d like to thank my buddies

Characters (no order at all or maybe I just want you to think that way):

Gritta

Hans

The man on the motorcycle

Pam

Gritta: I’d like to thank my buddies for offering me a bearable way to live and… No. I’d like to thank my buddies… Hell no. I’d like… What would I like?

Hans: The introduction sucks. Probably that’s the reason why everything else sounds like a crap bag hitting the ground with 20 miles per hour.

Gritta: Excuse me?

Hans: Did you know that Phillips makes M.R.I. equipment? And I’ve always wondered how do they manage to survive from selling TVs…

Gritta: I’m having an existential issue. You’re not helping.

Hans: You don’t exist anymore. And I’m not Jesus.

(The man on the motorcycle turns the headlight on and off.)

Gritta: Ok, ok, I get the point!

Hans: No, you don’t.

Pam: Could you please stop arguing, I’m exhausted!

Gritta (towards Hans): Who’s the princess?

Pam: Am I supposed to live with you two for… all eternity?

Hans: Yeah, kind of.

Pam: Oh my God!

Hans: I wouldn’t be too sure if I were you.

Gritta: What was your point?

Pam: Obviously you have some individuality problems which interfere with your inter-human relationships.

Hans: Did she just say something smart?

Gritta: No, actually. She just used big words at random.

Pam: You’re faking a non-interested behaviour because you’re too scared to face a real problem.

Hans: The only problem here is that we’re dead, lady! It’s just a matter of accommodation.

(The man on the motorcycle turns the headlight on and off.)

Hans: Screw you! You know I’m right!

Gritta: You’re shouting… So this means you are annoyed or even irritated. Am I dreaming again?

Hans: This talking is useless. And harmful too, as the whiny lady said. I propose a certain period of silence so we can get used with this… status.

Gritta: Is that how you call it, a status?

Pam: Metaphorically…

Gritta (interrupting): You have always been treating real situations with shallowness and indifference.

Pam: Wait. You two know each other?

Hans: Yes. Unfortunately, we had our lives intersected at some point. That’s why God refused my presence next to him. I was going to write a complaint.

Gritta: You think this is a joke?

Hans: I’m standing here with two hysterical women and a weirdo on a motorcycle who scares the shit out of everyone and you’re saying I have no right to enjoy my death? You’re not even thanking me…

Gritta: Thanking you… (bitter laugh)

Pam: I think she’ll suffer a serious breakdown. Why don’t we just…

(The man on the motorcycle turns the headlight on and off.)

Hans: See? Even he agrees with me.

Gritta: Of course he does! He’s male!

Pam: By the way, my name is Pam.

Gritta: I’m Gritta.

Hans: Hans.

(The three of them sit on a couch.)

Pam: Isn’t this wonderful… Trying to figure out our ghosts from the past… In this case, from the past life.

Gritta: It’s real. We are a bunch of unmistakable dead people.

Hans: Could’ve been worse.

Pam: How?

Hans: Being on the edge.

Pam: You mean… like in a coma?

Hans: I guess so.

Gritta: Is this the main conflict? The whole philosophy of life and death and which one is more pleasant?

Hans: Well, when you’re alive you cherish life, right? And when you’re dead you tend to feel more comfortable as a dead person.

Pam: So it’s a win-win situation.

Hans: Actually, since everyone dies, we win by a long shot. Though it’s pretty sad to be obliged to like death.

Pam: Do you remember how much you feared death when you were living?

Hans: Were you, by any chance, a psychologist?

Pam: No. But I would have liked that…

Gritta: I wasn’t afraid. I knew it was something that had to happen…

Hans: Oh, c’mon! You wouldn’t recognize an inevitable fact even if it was shoving up your ass.

Gritta: Why? Are you feeling horny?

Hans: You could die again and disappear in the cold mist or you could just bite me.

(The man on the motorcycle turns the headlight on and off.)

Pam: Hey! You’re pissing the weird guy!

Hans: Yeah, what’s up with him anyway?

Gritta: No one really knows.

Hans: As if you got here first…

Pam: Why are you dressed like that?

Gritta: If I tell you I’m a former dictator, will you believe me?

Pam: No.

Hans: You should.

Pam: Really? A female dictator?

Gritta: That’s me.

Pam: So how was it?

Gritta: Fun. Until they killed me.

Pam: They?

Hans: The people. The country. The suffering slaves. Mainly me but I was quite an outstanding official. At least I did my job properly.

Pam: You killed her?

Hans: Smiling with a cold-blooded heart.

Gritta: Why don’t you tell her how you died?

Pam: Yeah… I would love to hear that.

Hans: Frankly, I would not love to tell… that.

Pam: Why is that?

Gritta: Let me do the honours.

(From this time, Hans will try to exit the stage. Apparently, he won’t be able to. ‘Cause I said so.)

Gritta: After he brutally assaulted me and, in the end, killed me, he was so excited by his success that he rushed to his superiors.

Hans (to the motorcycle guy): If I beg or repent or both, can I get out of here?

Gritta: Unfortunately, he didn’t watch out for the stairs. You can imagine: a very graceful tumble followed by a smashing head during the landing.

Pam: That’s tragic.

Hans: No. It’s pathetic.

Pam: Well, that too but I was trying to be polite.

Hans: Don’t be. There’s no use here for enchanting words of fake consolation.

Pam (towards Gritta): And you said I was using big words at random. (Pause.) Still, what are you thankful for?

Hans: It’s already Thanksgiving?

Pam: You’re such an idiot. No wonder you rolled down like a potato trying to collect the reward for your great efforts. She was thanking her buddies…

Hans: Oh, that matter… Observe my total ignorance regarding what you said about me before that. See? I can be nice too.

Pam (to Gritta): You were saying…?

Gritta: I had no intent to respond to your question. Simply because it’s not your business.

Hans: How come you’re so politician-like now?

Gritta: I was a dictator, dumbass.

Hans: And she’s back.

Şi atât a fost. Şi atât intenţionez să rămână. De ce să închei? De ce să termin ceva ce poate continua la nesfârşit? Sau poate că iar îmi exercit drepturile comunisto-exclusiviste pe care le deţin cu atâta mândrie.