SANDWICHED LIGHT

(A Play In Two Acts)

By Evan Keliher


ACT 1


SCENE 1


SETTING: A sitting room in the Sunnydale old folks’ home. Some seconds before the curtain rises we hear the mournful voice of a Spanish flamenco singer accompanied by a guitar. The song is a dirge, sad and moving and eternal.


AT RISE: We see a well-appointed, large room containing assorted couches, easy chairs, tables, fireplace, etc. A phone is on a table and a tall grandfather clock stands against one wall. The light is low and it brightens as

BEN SHEEHAN speaks the first lines. Even when fully lighted the room is lighted in such a way that there are parts of it in deep shadow. A TV screen (not visible to the audience) is on without audible sound. A door at stage left leads to the dining room while another at upstage center leads to living quarters in the rear.

MARY HAYES sits in an easy chair facing the TV with her feet propped up on an ottoman. She is somewhat hidden by her position.

BEN enters from the dining room and moves to center stage. He uses a cane and moves with care. He doesn’t see MARY.

As BEN enters he hears the music and stops to cock an ear. The music fades as he speaks.

BEN
Eh? What’s that? Shades of ‘37 again?

(Cocks his head, listens)

Jesus, was it almost sixty years ago? It’s still so clear in my mind now, like it happened only yesterday.

(Draws himself up)

The International Brigade—idealists, visionaries, romantics.
(Shakes his head)

And fools, too.

(Lights up full now. BEN’S reverie is broken as he advances to center stage. He rubs his stomach as he moves and belches audibly when he reaches center stage)

Goddam meatloaf. Stuff would give a Christian heartburn—and serve ‘em right, too. I thought the state had laws against abusing the elderly, but if they do nobody told that cook about ‘em.

MARY
Are you talking to yourself again, Mr. Sheehan?

BEN
(Turning to face her)
Skulking in the shadows, are we, Mary Hayes? I can hardly be talking to myself when you’re in the room, can I?

MARY
But you didn’t know I was in the room. That means you were talking to yourself.

(Smugly)
It’s like that old story about the tree falling in the woods and nobody being there to hear it.

BEN
(Shakes his head and sighs)
Ah, logic was never a woman’s forte. What has that tree got to do with my talking to myself? If it has any meaning at all in the present context, it supports my argument that I wasn’t talking to myself if you heard me. Besides, I like to talk to myself. The way things have been going lately, I seem to be the only one who makes any sense these days.

MARY
You’re the only one making sense? If that’s so, society is a lot worse off than I thought.


BEN
Society is in pretty bad shape. Nobody knows anything anymore. Oh, they know a lot of stuff, all right, but they don’t know a damn thing about what really counts in life.

MARY
You’re such a cynic, Ben.

BEN
Of course I’m a cynic; I’m eighty-four years old!

MARY
I’m eighty-six and I’m not a cynic.

BEN
All that means is I’m more perceptive than you are—or you’re less perceptive than I.


MARY
Exactly what has society done to you that you should think so little of it?

BEN
Not just to me but to all of us, even those too imperceptive to notice.

(Soberly)

They’ve left us behind, that’s what they’ve done. The whole bunch have moved off and left us abandoned here without a pot to piss in.

MARY

Nonsense. I not only have a pot but I also have a window.

(Beat)

It’s all in how you look at it, really. We’ve had our turn and it’s over for us. New people come along and have lives of their own and no time to spend worrying about us. Oh, it’s true we’re not exactly young any longer...


BEN

Not exactly young! What do you call old then?

MARY

...but we still have our health, such as it is, and a nice place to stay and good food to eat and some more or less pleasant companions and an altogether bright future.


BEN

A bright future? What future? Our future is not only dim but it’s likely to be extremely short. Nobody in this place can make plans any farther into the future than the day after tomorrow, for God’s sake.

(Pause, looks heavenward)

And some of ‘em not even that far.

MARY
(Follows his gaze and nods)

Maybe you’re right about that, but we once had futures that seemed to go on endlessly and promised all sorts of wonderful things. I remember making plans years down the road, looking forward to events that seemed such a long way off. We had lots of time then, didn’t we?


BEN

Maybe we did but somehow it’s all turned into the past. Now we look forward to nothing and back on everything.

MARY

Maybe the past is our future now. Maybe that’s how it works. We reach a certain age and round a corner and double back on ourselves and the past becomes our new future and memories take the place of events.

BEN

It’s not a pretty picture, is it?


MARY

(Smiles)

Depends on one’s memories, doesn’t it?

BEN

I guess it does but it doesn’t seem like much to have after all these years. There ought to be more to life than the mere accumulation of memories.

(As they speak JACK CUTTER enters from the dining room and crosses the stage toward the fireplace. He is tall and stooped and drags a wheeled IV unit which is feeding into his arm)

JACK
So how do you like the place, Mary? Is Sunnydale everything you thought an old folks’ home would be?


MARY
(Looks around as though seeing the place for the first time)

That is what this place is, isn’t it? An old folks’ home. A place for old people like us who have nowhere else to go.


JACK

Afraid so. They use a lot of euphemisms to avoid calling it one, but it’s still an old folks’ home no matter how you look at it. You put a lot of old-timers together in one place, sprinkle them with bad hearts and weak kidneys and lumbago and becloud their minds with mind-altering drugs and the next thing you know you’ve got yourself a bona fide old folks’ home.

MARY

Some people call these places convalescent homes.

BEN

Sure, they do, but saying it won’t make it so. Think about it for a minute. If a place is a convalescent home you’d expect at least some of the inmates would get well and go home, but that never happens here.

JACK

That’s right. You see people come in through the lobby but you never see anybody go out.


BEN

Oh, they go out, all right, but..

(Nods toward backstage)

...you just don’t see ‘em leave.


JACK

(Reflecting soberly)

You never see ‘em leave.


MARY

Others call them nursing homes.


JACK

(Coming to)

That’s a little closer to the mark. We sure as hell need a lot of nursing around here.

(Pause, to MARY)

But you said something about memories.


MARY

I did? I forget what it was. Maybe I’m losing mine.

BEN

No, no, you were saying memory is all we have left.

MARY

It is if we haven’t lost it. When you reach eighty-six you’ve just about run out of options, you know. I mean, how many things can we still do that won’t either kill us outright or bring on some fate worse than death? Remembering is the only thing that’s allowed your average octogenarian.

BEN

That’s true, and that’s why some people here are so bored all the time. They lead boring lives and end up without a sufficient supply of memories to fall back on. If you never did anything memorable, you won’t have anything worth remembering when you’re old.

MARY

Thank God I didn’t make that mistake. I lived every minute and did just what I wanted to and never cared what any of them thought, either.

BEN

Good for you! You included a little spice in your life and you’re better off for it today.


MARY

(Smiles)

Oh, I included more than a little spice in my life, Ben. More like an entire spice rack, if the truth were known.

JACK

(Interested)

An entire spice rack, eh? That sounds, well, spicy.

BEN

Tell us more, Mary—but go slow. Jack and I are easily excited. You might start something we won’t be able to finish.

MARY

(Ruefully)

It wouldn’t be a new experience. Men often started things that I had to finish myself.


JACK

You said it was spicy...?


MARY

Ah, it was. I was a notorious flirt, you know. Flirting is one of woman’s greatest prerogatives, one that few women avail themselves of. All men love a flirt. They’re really just overgrown boys, of course, and so easily led. Why, any slip of a girl can show a little cleavage and the most fleeting glimpse of thigh and the average lummox will fall all over himself hoping to see more.


JACK

Alas, too true! I’ve met such girls and I confess they worked the very same magic on me with the same results.

(Smiles wistfully)

Still, those were truly magical moments.


MARY

Weren’t they, though? But so long ago. It was a time when I was young and slim and actually had cleavage to show and the men were tall and strong and firm.


BEN

Hmmm. I was like that once—at least I think I was. God knows, I’m sure as hell not like that now.


MARY

(Drily)

I’ve noticed.


BEN

(Indignantly)

Well, it isn’t my fault, you know.

(Shouts in the direction of the

BEN (cont’d)

dining room)

It’s all that saltpeter they put in our food, that’s what it is! You hear me in there? It’s the goddam saltpeter!

MARY

Saltpeter?

BEN

Yeah, it makes men impotent. The army put the stuff in the food during the war so the troops wouldn’t get turned on and forget they had a war to fight. Now they use it in old folks’ homes so there won’t be any funny stuff going on.


MARY

That’s poppycock and you know it. Nobody is putting saltpeter in your food.

BEN

Oh, yeah? Then how come there isn’t a single man here who can still get it up?

MARY

Because there isn’t a man here who’s under eighty years old, that’s why you can’t get it up. You’ve worn it out.

BEN

That’s not true. Everybody knows you can’t wear ‘em out. They’re supposed to last you a lifetime.


MARY

But yours has lasted you a lifetime. You’re eighty-four years old and that is a lifetime.

BEN

Listen, my lifetime ends when I’m dead and not a minute sooner. That means the damn thing has no business being worn out yet, and it also means if it is worn out it’s because they’re putting that goddam saltpeter in our food!


JACK

Where the hell do they get saltpeter? I thought that stuff was banned by the FDA.

BEN

(Pointing toward the dining room)

Ask the cook. She’s the one who buys the stuff by the peck.

MARY

I’m afraid it’s all academic now, isn’t it?

BEN

It wouldn’t be if they’d stop putting saltpeter in the food.

MARY

Maybe you could counteract the effects of the saltpeter. Why don’t you try eating some starch every day?


BEN

Sure, have a laugh at our expense, but have you ever thought how much livelier things might be for you around here if a few of us were still able to get it up?


MARY

(Reflecting)

You know, you may be right about that. I’ll speak to the cook first thing in the morning.

(Pause)

God knows, we sure could use a little life in this place.

JACK

Speaking of life, how’s Ferguson doing?


BEN

Not so good, apparently.

(Pause)

In fact, he’s not doing well at all. The poor guy slips in and out of comas every hour or so and you can hear his death rattle all over the second floor.


JACK

Yeah, I guess he’s on his way out, all right.

MARY

He’s cashing in his chips.


BEN

Kicking the bucket.


JACK

Giving up the ghost.


MARY

Going to meet his Maker.


BEN

At the end of the trail.


JACK

Buying the farm.

(A kind of tableau as all lapse into a somber silence while each reflects on the imminent death of MR. FERGUSON and, incidentally, on his own mortality. After a moment, WALT SINGER enters from the living quarters. He moves slowly with the aid of a cane and advances toward a chair and table near the fireplace. He has a wild look in his eye and clutches some sheets of paper in one hand)

WALT

Hey! I got it! A perfect plan!

(Waves papers)

I told ya they’d never hold Walt Singer, by God! We’ll be out of here before dawn!



BEN

Another perfect escape plan, Walt?


WALT

Damn right! It’s right here.

(Waves papers)

I’ve got everything figured out. Can’t miss.

(Sits and spreads papers on table)

See? We wait ’til midnight when they’re all asleep and we rendezvous in the lobby. All we have to do is overpower the guard and...

JACK
Overpower the guard? Who’s going to do that?

BEN

Yeah, and with what?


WALT

Hey, do I have to do everything, for Christ’s sake? Isn’t it enough that I came up with the plan? I haven’t got time for petty details.

(Glowers at others, then resumes plan)

Okay, once we get outside we head for the swamp so they won’t be able to track us with the dogs and...


BEN

Oh, no, not the swamp again.


WALT

(Ignores him)

...and once we cross the swamp we strike out for the city and lose ourselves in the crowds, by God! It’s foolproof!

(Looks up and fixes his gaze on the

middle distance)

We’ll be the first people ever to escape old age. We’ll keep on the move, never use our real names, give the Grim Reaper the slip for good. They’ll put us in the Guinness Book of World Records before we’re done. Hell, we’ll sell the story rights to Hollywood!


BEN

It’s a good plan, Walt, but I’m not sure Mary here could make it across the swamp.


JACK

Not to mention the rest of us.


MARY

Besides, if you wait until everyone’s asleep, we’ll all be asleep, too. None of us can stay awake past nine-thirty, you know.

WALT

There you go with details again. You’ll never get out of this place alive if you don’t stop all this negative thinking.

(Earnestly)

Look, we’re not gettin’ any younger. Time’s runnin’ out on us; we’ve got to act now or it’ll be too late. I say we go for it!

BEN

What the hell, let’s do it. We’ll meet in the lobby and make a run for it.

WALT

Now you’re talkin’!

(Rises, picks up papers)

By God, we’ll show ‘em they can’t keep us in this dump against our will!

(Starts out)

We’ll head straight for the swamp and light out for the city and get lost in the crowds. It’s a perfect plan; we’ll be famous. I’ll notify the Guinness people and alert Hollywood. Maybe they can get Robert Redford to play me.

(WALT makes his way through the door

to living quarters, muttering all the way)

BEN

That’s the craziest plan I ever heard. Overpowering guards and crossing swamps and rendezvousing at midnight. I think Walt’s losing his grip. I’ll tell Doc Steen to cut back on his Prozac.

MARY

Walt isn’t on Prozac anymore. The doctor took him off three weeks ago.

BEN

Then it’s worse than I thought. If Walt’s not on Prozac, he’s a true mental case and due for a good round of electric shock treatments.

JACK

Walt may be crazy but you can’t blame him for wanting to get out of Sunnydale. This place is just death’s waiting room; everybody sits around waiting for the Grim Reaper to show up. Makes even a hike across a swamp look good.


BEN

Maybe so, but he’s still crazy. Nobody ever escapes from Sunnydale; it can’t be done. This is our last stop, the end of the trail. The only way out of this place is feet first with the boys from McGinty’s funeral parlor providing the locomotion. That’s the truth of it. If anybody ever got out of here alive, he’d deserve a place in a record book.

MARY

I guess that makes Walt’s plan less than perfect then, doesn’t it?

BEN

That’s okay, Walt’s less than perfect himself.

JACK

Aren’t we all?


MARY

(Pensively)

Then we won’t be rendezvousing in the lobby at midnight?

JACK

Naw. By midnight Walt’ll be sleeping like a dead man—and so will the rest of us.



BEN

There won’t be any movie deal, either, and that should be a relief for Robert Redford.


MARY

(Wistfully)

Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. For a moment there I was looking forward to one more midnight rendezvous—even if Robert Redford wasn’t going to be there.

JACK

(Sighs)

You’ll have no more rendezvous, Mary—none of us will.

BEN

Wrong, Jack. We’ll each have one more—though it’s one we might prefer to avoid.

(All lapse into a moment of silence.

Finally, BEN stirs and looks around

furtively)

Well. We’ve been left to our own devices so let’s do ourselves a good turn.

(BEN moves to bookshelves and reaches

in behind the books and takes out a bottle

of brandy)

MARY

What is that? Brandy? Mr. Sheehan, you raise yourself in my estimation. Only a man of character and forethought would think to keep a bottle of brandy on hand for emergencies.


JACK

And it’s appropriate, too. After all, doesn’t brandy have a lot of medicinal uses? And who needs medicine more than we do? I’d say a snifter of brandy is just what the doctor ordered.

BEN

(Secures glasses)

Well, it wasn’t exactly what she ordered, but I’m sure she would have if she’d just thought of it. Let’s say I’m just anticipating her a bit.

MARY

I hope they don’t charge us with practicing medicine without a license. I’d hate to end up in the big house at my age.

JACK

Harrumph. We’re already serving life sentences. The big house,

Sunnydale, what’s the difference?

(BEN pours three dollops of brandy

into glasses and hands them around)

JACK

(Raises glass)

Here’s looking up your kilt.


BEN

(To MARY)

Here’s to entire spice racks.


MARY

I’ll drink to that—or anything else.


(They drink and there is a slight movement in the deep shadows near the bookcase. BEN glances in that direction and then back to his glass. He frowns and makes a move toward the half-seen movement when DR. STEEN enters from the door to living quarters. She is a recent medical school graduate and very young)

DR. STEEN
Well, well, and how is everyone this evening? You’re looking very chipper, Mary. And so are both of you.


DR. STEEN (cont’d)

(Spots glasses)

And what have we here? Did you find some new tonic?

(Takes MARY’S glass and sniffs)

Maybe this explains how you can all be so chipper.

BEN

An accurate diagnosis, Doc, and on the first try. It’s a tonic called brandy but a tonic nonetheless. It’s the next best thing to penicillin and it’s cheaper, too.


JACK

It’s Mary’s. We warned her booze wasn’t allowed at Sunnydale but she refused to listen.


BEN

That’s right, it’s all Mary’s fault. The woman is without scruples and should be sent down for a good caning.


MARY

They’re lying but I don’t care. Brandy warms cold bones and I so hate having cold bones.


JACK

I suppose you don’t approve, Doc?


DR. STEEN

On the contrary. I think people in their eighties and nineties should have anything they want and lots of it, too. After all, what harm can befall an eighty-year-old person who’s already survived every hazard imaginable just getting so old in the first place? In fact, brandy warms young bones, as well.

(Looks around)

If there happened to be another glass on the premises, I could be persuaded to warm mine.

BEN

(Brings the bottle from behind a chair)

You’re wise beyond your years, Doc. I’ve known old fools who practiced medicine for decades and never reached such eminently intelligent conclusions. Here. Join us in a tonic.

(Pours)


DR. STEEN

(Takes glass, raises it)

To...

(She hesitates, suddenly not sure of a

toast that’s appropriate to the very old)

MARY

What, Doctor? Health? Success?


BEN

Respect? Honor?


JACK

A miracle cure for old age?


BEN

The future?

JACK

Happiness? Long life?


DR. STEEN

How about to a pleasant evening with the company of good companions?

BEN

Hear, hear.

JACK

Well said.

MARY

I’ll drink to that!


(All drink and savor taste of the brandy.)

BEN

Ah! That hits the spot.


JACK

A panacea if I ever saw one. You should write a piece for the AMA Journal and encourage medicinal brandy for old-timers everywhere, Doc.

DR. STEEN

(Savoring taste)

You’re right. I should prescribe it more often.

(Puts glass down, opens bag)

Which reminds me, Mary, I’ve made a change in your prescription. You can discontinue those blue pills and take these instead. One before bedtime and it will clear up that night cough you’ve had.

(Hands pills)

MARY

Frankly, I think I’d rather have some more of this brandy.

BEN

I don’t suppose you’ve got a cure for Ferguson in that bag, have you, Doc? Some new miracle drug maybe? A magic potion?

DR. STEEN

No, I’m afraid not. Mr. Ferguson suffers from an incurable disease called old age. Maybe we’ll find a cure even for that some day but in the meantime...

MARY

In the meantime, they’d better hurry up about it if it’s going to do any of us any good. At eighty-six I don’t believe I can wait much longer.

JACK

Nobody has to invent a cure for old age—there already is one.

BEN

You’re a trained scientist, Doc. Tell me. What has medical science found out about time?


DR. STEEN

Time?

BEN

Sure. Where does it go? What happens to it? How come there’s so much less of it now than there used to be?


JACK

Maybe it’s leaking out through that hole in the atmosphere along with all the ozone.


MARY

Ben’s right. Time not only seems to go so much faster now than it did when I was a girl, but I think it actually does. The years aren’t as long as they were and months and days go by in a blur. Why, half the time I don’t even know what day it is because one just blends into another.


DR. STEEN

It’s more a metaphysical question than it is a medical one.

BEN

Okay, give me a metaphysical answer.


MARY

I used to be a young woman, slim and with excellent cleavage and a bright, endless future in front of me, and almost overnight I turned into an old crone with wrinkles like crevasses and liver spots the size of quarters and a spine that curves like a shepherd’s crook. And it’s all because I ran out of time. How can all that happen overnight?

DR. STEEN

I’m sure all that didn’t actually happen overnight. It may seem like it did but...


MARY

Oh, but it did! I was a slip of a girl only yesterday and look at me now!

DR. STEEN

I’m sure things aren’t as bad as you make them out to be.

(As MARY speaks the following lines,

BEN, DR. STEEN and JACK remain unmoving

and the light falls on her as the others

are in shadow)

MARY

(Somberly)

You’re right, they’re even worse. Sometimes I can’t believe what’s happened to me. Changes I wouldn’t have believed possible turned me into an old woman.

(Speaks to the audience rather

than to the others)

As you know, we women are much more concerned with our looks than men are. Oh, men are vain enough, all right, but they know they’re not held to the same standards as women. A man shaves, splashes his face with some after shave lotion that has a picture of a lumberjack on the bottle, runs a comb through his hair, and he’s off. Ah, if they could only see the average woman at her dressing table!

(Sits forward on the edge of her chair

and looks into an imaginary mirror)

A young woman has tight skin and a good, firm neck and a wrinkle-free mouth and open pores and the natural glow found only in the young. She takes all these wonders for granted, of course, and thinks it’ll always be like this. Time means nothing to her, she never thinks about it and doesn’t notice it slipping by at an ever faster pace. Youth is forever, beauty a given, age and wrinkles and liver spots never appear in a young girl’s mirror.

(She makes appropriate gestures as

she describes the following)

She daubs on some rouge and a little mascara and lipstick and adjusts her breasts—which still stand up by themselves and don’t really need adjusting at all—and she’s ready to meet the world.

(Leans in and squints into mirror)

MARY (cont’d)

Then one day she notices a wrinkle, a very small one, probably at the corner of her eye, and she studies it and worries about it and then it’s joined by a second wrinkle near the other eye and then another one and she begins taking a little longer at her makeup and her hair begins to gray and her jowls droop and her breasts sag and become impossible to adjust no matter which way she pushes them. At last she reaches a point where no amount of time is enough to undo the ravages of age and gravity and mirrors become instruments of terror and outrage.

(She drinks off the brandy in

er glass and rises)

No one can ever imagine the horror I see in my mirror now. I see an old woman, a face I can’t even recognize, a face beyond cosmetics, beyond plastic surgery, even. I see only remnants, fragments, mere traces of youth and vigor and what used to be.

(MARY pauses and looks around as the lights come up full again. She shudders and steps to the table and picks up the brandy bottle and takes a hearty slug from it. She lurches unsteadily and DR. STEEN starts to reach for her but she moves away)

There. That’s better. Maybe that’ll help straighten out a few of the wrinkles.

JACK

If you have enough of that brandy, you won’t even see the wrinkles.

BEN

Or anything else.


DR. STEEN

Here, Mary, let me help you...


MARY

No, that’s all right. I’m going to my room and turn all the mirrors to the wall before things get any worse.


(MARY starts for the door to the living quarters. DR. STEEN watches her go and then picks up the brandy bottle and replaces the cork)

DR. STEEN

We won’t be needing any more of this tonight.

BEN

Here, I’ll take that. You know, in case our old bones get cold again tomorrow.

(As BEN goes to put the brandy bottle back behind the books, there is a movement in the deepening shadows of the room near the fireplace and BEN catches a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye. He looks that way quickly and isn’t quite sure whether his eyes are playing tricks on him or if he
actually saw something. He takes a tentative step toward the shadow and hesitates uncertainly)


DR. STEEN

I’d better go look in on Mr. Ferguson and see if there’s anything I can do to comfort him.

(Shakes her head)

It’s a sad business, all right.


(DR. STEEN starts out. They watch her go and BEN belches and rubs his stomach)

BEN

Goddam food. Ate better in the army, for God’s sake.

JACK

I’m lucky. I’m on a liquid diet and the cook can’t find a way to liquefy the meatloaf.



BEN

Watch out. Modern science can do anything. By next week she’ll be piping meatloaf through your IV.


JACK

Maybe, but at least I won’t have to taste it, will I?

BEN

You will when it backs up on you. I’ll be tasting the stuff all night.

(He belches again and they lapse into

a momentary silence before BEN, in a

kind of reverie, drifts back to Spain again)

BEN

I remember Spain in the summer of ‘37. A lot of naive American kids looking for adventure, for excitement—for life, I guess. It’s strange how we thought we could find life by courting death, but maybe they’re the same thing. I can see it clear as day after almost sixty years. The olive trees and the dry brown hills and the little whitewashed villages. It’s amazing how clear it is after all this time.

JACK

Amazing.

BEN

(His mind in prewar Spain)

I saw Hemingway over there. It was outside Barcelona. He had a white bandage on his head with blood on it just like the one in The Red Badge of Courage. Everybody thought it was ketchup. Either that or maybe he banged his head on his typewriter. Had to be something like that because nobody ever saw him near the front where a man could get such a badge honorably.

JACK

Ol’ Ernie was a four-flusher, all right. Good writer, though.

BEN

(Still in Spain)

Jesus, how innocent we all were then. We were a lot of dreamers and romantics and pseudo-intellectuals fighting to stop fascism and unwittingly helping the commies at the same time. What craziness.

JACK

Made about as much sense as any war. Are there ever any good ones?

BEN

I first learned about dying in Spain, about how fragile life is. Death was only an abstraction then, you know, something in the future that had nothing to do with me, and then I saw men die, men who’d been alive and well only moments before, and all of a sudden they were dead and I knew it was only chance that kept me from being one of ‘em.

(Pause)

I saw Death himself in Spain that summer. He was a darker shadow in the moving shadows, a Spaniard in black accompanied by a flamenco guitar and the wailing of a singer singing a dirge.

(Stops, looks at JACK)

It was a sobering experience.


JACK

Well, I don’t know about you, but I refuse to die. I don’t like the idea so I’ve decided to ignore the whole thing.

BEN

That’s a good trick if you can pull it off.

JACK

Nobody’s tried it before. How do you know it won’t work? Maybe it’s true that things only exist if we think about them. Okay, so I don’t think about the Grim Reaper and he won’t think about me.

(Shrugs)

What the hell, it’s worth a try.



BEN

Yeah, what have you got to lose? If it doesn’t work, you won’t even know it. Once the Grim Reaper does his work, you’ll be afloat on the river Styx and never know the difference one way or the other.

(FR. HOGAN enters from the door to the living quarters and advances on the two men. FR. HOGAN is a ruddy-cheeked Irishman not much younger than the inhabitants of Sunnydale and with a nose incarnadined by too much booze. He claims to be an agnostic but is really closer to an out and out infidel)

FR. HOGAN

Ah! Talking about the Grim Reaper, are we? It’s a job for Fr. Hogan, then. Have you seen the rascal around?


BEN

Have we seen who around?


FR. HOGAN

The Grim Reaper. He’s rumored to be in the neighborhood but that’s not surprising since that fellow is always in the neighborhood. Maybe I should sprinkle a little holy water around just in case the rascal comes this way.


BEN

Do you always carry a supply of holy water with you, Padre?

FR. HOGAN

Don’t need to. I can just make some up out of ordinary tap water. Where’d you think we got the stuff? Did you think there’s a special holy river somewhere in the Holy Land where they bottle holy water for the Church? Nothing of the kind. We only have to fill a jug with tap water, make a sign of the cross over it, mumble a few Latin verbs and adjectives and presto! Holy water.


JACK

Will holy water keep the Grim Reaper away?

FR. HOGAN

Of course not. If it did, I’d bathe in the stuff. Its chief value is economic. We sell it to the faithful for forty dollars a drum and use the money to buy more precious jewels for the pope.

(Leans in)

But I’ll sprinkle a bit around just in case, right?

BEN

But we don’t have any tap water handy.


FR. HOGAN

(Points at their glasses)

No problem. Have you got any of that good brandy nearby?

JACK

You’re going to make holy brandy?


FR. HOGAN

And why not? We priests are trained to be innovative. Where do you think the idea for holy water came from in the first place?

(BEN goes to the bookcase for the

brandy and studies the shadows closely.

He hands FR. HOGAN the bottle)

FR. HOGAN

(Holds it aloft, admires it)

Ah! Elixir for the gods—which I’ll drink for ‘em since they’re unable to drink for themselves.

(He takes a glass and pours a

generous dollop and raises glass)

To you, gentlemen. As you go along through life, may the wind that’s always at your back be your own.


BEN

Hey, what about the holy part? You were warding off the Grim Reaper, remember?



FR. HOGAN

Oh, yes. That part.

(Raises glass, gestures)

Dominus vobiscum, quid pro quo, tempus fugit. And presto! We have holy, uh, brandy which I’ll sprinkle around to slow death down a bit.

(He daintily dips his fingers in the glass and flicks a few tiny drops of brandy around the room and then quickly tosses down the balance in glass)

JACK

(Impressed)

That’s a neat trick. No wonder the Church has been around so long.

BEN

(To JACK)

As I said, Fr. Hogan isn’t your conventional religioso. In fact, he’s an infidel.

FR. HOGAN

Ah, you go too far, Ben. I’m not an infidel, at least not exactly. I’m one of the new breed in the Church, an enlightened modernist who has sought the truth—and been unfortunate enough to find it.

JACK

A modernist? I’d expect younger priests to hold such views since the young are usually the radicals. Once people get our age, they tend to turn Republican and start calling for a cut in the capital gains tax.

FR. HOGAN

But not in this case. It’s the older ones who’ve been around long enough to see what a lot of hokum it all is. We’ve had time to think about it, time to examine the miracles and history and aberrations and inconsistencies, time, in short, to learn the truth. It’s all a great charade, a lot of mirrors and smoke and dazzling lights and sleight-of-hand with little truth in it.


(FR. HOGAN pours another glass of brandy and offers the bottle to the others. BEN nods and he and JACK hold out their glasses and FR. HOGAN pours)

JACK

But if you feel that way, why do you stay on as a priest?

FR. HOGAN

Because I need the Blue Cross coverage, that’s why.

BEN

Blue Cross?

FR. HOGAN

Aye. I’m sixty-one years old. Where’ll I go at my age? There aren’t many jobs for retired Jesuits, you know.

(Shrugs)

I need the benefits.


JACK

But wouldn’t God take care of you? I’ve heard it said that not a single sparrow falls without God’s notice.


FR. HOGAN

Ah, but the sparrow still falls, doesn’t it? That’s just another example of the fraud. It’s plain to all but the very slow that God takes little interest in the affairs of men. Try checking into a hospital and telling them it’s okay, God will take care of the bill.

BEN

So in the end even priests are afraid and cringe before death like the rest of us.

FR. HOGAN

Especially priests.

(Each man sips from his glass and stares vacantly into space. After a moment, FR. HOGAN rouses himself and looks around)


FR. HOGAN (cont’d)
So, has Mr. Ferguson departed this mortal coil yet?

BEN

Not yet, but it looks like he’s on his way out for sure.

JACK

Doc’s up there now. She says it’s just a matter of time.

FR. HOGAN

Harumph! She could say that about any of us.

(Eyes glass)

I suppose I should go up and give him the last rites or something. Help him on his way, you know.


JACK

The last rites? But aren’t they as fraudulent as the rest of all that hokum you were just railing about? How can you pay lip service to something you don’t really believe?


FR. HOGAN

It’s easy, everybody does it. Most Americans claim to be Christians but you couldn’t find a real Christian out there with a divining rod. Nobody complains because they claim to be something they’re not, do they?


BEN

Besides, maybe Ferguson doesn’t know it’s a hoax and he’ll be heartened by the ceremony and put at ease. There’s some value in that, isn’t there?

FR. HOGAN

There you have it! The exact position of the Church.

JACK

But then you’re saying we can benefit from lies.



FR. HOGAN

We can and we do. Civilization would collapse overnight without universal lying. Why, the Church would be out of business at once and lawyers would earn less than the average Ethiopian. I don’t even bother assigning penance at confession for routine lying. Besides, it wouldn’t do any good if I did. They’d just skip it and then lie about it.

BEN

Didn’t I tell you? The good Father doesn’t have a single conventional arrow in his philosophical quiver. He’s a cynic who’s favorite authors are Mark Twain and Ambrose Bierce.


FR. HOGAN

The both of ‘em geniuses, sir.


JACK

I’m not surprised. Old age and cynicism are practically synonymous.

FR. HOGAN

You know what irritates me? Those half-wits who say age is only a state of mind and you’re as young as you feel. Harumph! I must be a hundred and ten then. Every bone aches. Turtles pass me when I go for a walk, my bowels move irregularly if at all, and I think my liver has stopped working altogether. Age is no mere mental state, I can tell you that.

BEN

Yeah, you never hear old people talking such nonsense. Age is worse than anyone can imagine who hasn’t grown old. Ambrose Bierce got it right. He said, “From childhood to youth is eternity; from youth to manhood a season. Age comes in a night and is incredible.”

JACK

And yet it’s a lot better than not getting old. After all, what’s the alternative? The only people who don’t get old are the dead ones.

BEN

Some say death is better than life.


FR. HOGAN

But you never hear a dead man say that, do you?

(MARY enters from door to living quarters. FR. HOGAN greets her)

Ah, Mary. And how are we today?


MARY

(Momentarily baffled by the question)

I’m eighty-six years old.


FR. HOGAN

Ah.

BEN

Well said, Mary. You couldn’t give a more complete answer if you wrote a book on the subject.


MARY

Are you here about Mr. Ferguson, Father?


FR. HOGAN

Aye, I was just going up to give him the last rites—and see if he’d like to spring for a mass while I’m at it.

MARY

I just came from his room. Dr. Steen’s up there now. She’s disconnecting his machinery.


FR. HOGAN

I’d better be on my way then. The last rites aren’t any good if the recipient’s already dead, you know.

(FR. HOGAN leaves)

JACK

Apparently, they aren’t much good even if the recipient’s not dead, either.

BEN

Still, they won’t do any harm and it gives the good padre Blue Cross coverage.

MARY

I thought it was against the law to unplug people.

BEN

I don’t know. Isn’t that being done now?

JACK

Well, euthanasia’s illegal, but the whole thing’s a tricky business. Is pulling a plug considered euthanasia?


MARY

I thought it was. Haven’t they had some cases where the doctor was charged with murder for doing that?


JACK

They do it all the time in the Netherlands.


BEN

Yes, but they don’t have a lunatic fringe fifty million strong over there. Mention anything remotely connected with euthanasia around here and you have pickets all over the place comparing you to Hitler.

MARY

Well, if it is against the law, somebody better tell Dr. Steen because she’s up there turning off valves and unscrewing hoses and disconnecting wires to beat the band.


BEN

So who’s going to turn her in? We all know Ferguson’s a goner with or without that machinery and all Doc’s doing is sending him off a few minutes sooner. Where’s the harm?


JACK

Only to Ferguson—and he gets harmed either way.


MARY

I think it’s disgraceful. People aren’t satisfied with telling us how to live, now they want to tell us how to die. I say they should mind their own business for once in their sordid little lives and leave us alone.

(WALT enters from living quarters

carrying a watch. He peers about)

BEN

Hey, Walt, it’s not midnight yet.


WALT

(Angrily)

I know what time it is. You think I’m senile or somethin’? I’m just makin’ a practice run here. I need to know how long it takes for everyone to assemble in the lobby so we can time our arrival in the swamp.

(Turns and counts steps between

his room and the lobby)

Now, let’s see, it took me eleven minutes to get here from my room and I’m one of the faster ones so...


JACK

Eleven minutes? But your room is on the first floor, Walt.

BEN

Yeah, if it takes eleven minutes to cover two hundred feet, how long will it take to cross two miles of swamp?

MARY

Especially if you’re eighty-six years old and carrying a heavy trunk on your back.

WALT

Trunk? What trunk? We’re breakin’ out and you’re worried about your goddam luggage? We travel light. No luggage.

MARY

And what do you propose to change into once you leave that swamp? I’m not about to go wandering around the city all caked with mud and nothing to change into because I couldn’t bring my luggage.

BEN

Mary’s got a point there.


JACK

Yeah.

WALT

Goddam it, there you go again! More negative thinkin’. There’s so much negativity in this place you couldn’t locate true north with a gold-plated compass!

(Thinks)

Okay, okay, so we need an alternate plan—one that allows for luggage. Naturally, I’m the one who has to come up with it. Everybody else is too busy bein’ negative.

(Mutters)

Maybe I can line up some redcaps.

(Derisively)

Or maybe we could send our luggage by UPS!

(WALT furrows his brow and concentrates

on a new plan)

JACK

Hmmm. What if we could get out of here. What would you do, Ben?


BEN

I’d head downtown for one of those places where pretty girls dance naked on tables.


MARY

What for? You can’t do anything with a naked girl.

BEN
I know that, but I’d like to see one again anyway.

(Gazes into the middle distance as
he imagines the sight)

It’s been so long I’m not even sure where all the parts go now. They may have entirely new models for all I know, streamlined ones with racing stripes and exotic new accessories. Maybe if one of ‘em danced on my table I might be able to remember a time when I could get it up with the best of ‘em.

(Calls loudly in the direction of
the door leading to the dining room)

I mean before I came here and they started feeding me a steady diet of that goddam saltpeter!


MARY

(Preening)

Well, look here, if seeing a naked girl is so important to you, I might be persuaded to take a few turns around a tabletop myself.

BEN

What?!

JACK
You’re not serious!


WALT
Hey, shut up, you guys. That’s the best offer I’ve had since the ‘68 Democratic convention in Chicago!

MARY
You have a lot of nerve! My parts may not be in mint condition but they all still work and that’s a lot more than any of you can say. I hereby withdraw my offer. You can just guess about the parts, Mr. Sheehan. I’ll leave that to your imagination.

(MARY rises and leaves)

JACK

(To BEN and WALT)

That was a close call!


BEN
She was kidding, wasn’t she?

JACK
I certainly hope so.


WALT
(Disappointed)

Yeah, I don’t think she could actually get up on top of a table myself.

BEN
What about you, Jack? What would you do if you could get out of here?

JACK
If I could get out of here? Why, I’d...I’d...

(Frowns)
Well, what would I do? I think I’d just like to walk around and look at things again. See people who aren’t rickety wrecks like us. Or drive a car again or maybe go to the Grand Canyon. I’d like to eat dinner in good restaurants and linger over coffee. I’d like to have a drink in a dark cocktail lounge where waitresses wear those low-cut dresses with their boobs hanging half out. I’d like to smoke a Cuban cigar in the lobby of the La Valencia Hotel in La Jolla and drive all the fresh air fetishists and health nuts crazy. I’d like to learn how to scuba dive and play the piano and...

BEN

Jesus Christ, it’d take years to do all those things.

JACK
(Smiling)

Yes, it would, wouldn’t it? Well, that’s what I’d like—about fifty more years.

BEN
(Nods somberly)

Yeah.
(They fall silent for a moment.

WALT has been listening and he edges forward. As he starts the speech he’s vigorous and assertive and then he trails off absently as though lost
and befuddled)

WALT

You guys are dreamers when the situation calls for action, for God’s sake. You can have another shot if you just have the balls to take it. People are livin’ on the other side of these walls, there’s life goin’ on out there and all you have to do is overpower the guard and scale a simple eight-foot wall and cross a few miles of swamp and you can have dancin’ girls and cigars and the Grand Canyon and eat in restaurants...

(WALT trails off and blinks as though

focusing in on some scene in his

mind’s eye)

...and take long walks and see kids playin’ in the streets and see your family again and not be lonely anymore and really be alive again...

(He starts out muttering to the papers in his hand. He turns defiantly)

Remember, we rendezvous at midnight! I got it all figured out. All we gotta do is overpower the guard and scale a simple eight-foot wall and...

(WALT leaves through door to living quarters. BEN and JACK look at each other)

BEN
Ol’ Walt may be a bit wacky but at least he still thinks he’s got a chance. There’s something to be said for hope, you know.

JACK
Yeah, even when there is none.


BEN
He’d better watch out with all this escape talk or they’ll shoot him full of mind-numbing drugs and chain his ass to his bed.

JACK

Maybe that’s one way to get out of here. Swallow enough Prozac or pain- killers and you won’t know whether you’re in Sunnydale or Palm Beach.

BEN

Maybe so but you end up with a paralyzed brain and who calls that living?

JACK

That’s not living. People live inside their brains and if you haven’t got a working brain you’re not really living at all.

BEN

Amen to that.


JACK

I’ve got to make a head call. Prostate’s working overtime again. I’d have the thing taken out if I wasn’t afraid it’d make me impotent.

BEN

Yeah, you’ve got to watch that. Nothing’s worse than not being able to get it up anymore.


(JACK leaves and BEN glances around surreptiously and pours himself another dollop of brandy as DR. STEEN enters from living quarters)

DR. STEEN

You don’t want to overdo that brandy, Ben.

BEN

(Looking up)

And why not? You said it yourself; what harm can it do me?

DR. STEEN

Probably none but you could end up with a first-class hangover.

BEN

(Remembering)

Oh, yeah, that’s right.

(Pause, holds bottle up)

A nightcap?

DR. STEEN

(Smiles)

Why not? Just a drop for me. I don’t want that first-class hangover, either.

BEN

(Pours her drink)

We drank to good companions earlier.


DR. STEEN

Yes, we did.


BEN

Ferguson, too.


DR. STEEN

Yes.

(They lapse into a moment of silence and think of the dying FERGUSON)

BEN

What made you take up geriatrics, Doc?

DR. STEEN

(Shrugs)

I’m not sure. It was either that or pediatrics.

BEN

Kids or old-timers, eh?


DR. STEEN

It’s sounds funny when you put it that way.

BEN

Yeah. It’s almost a choice between the living and the dead. Kids have all that life before ‘em and we have—well, we have each other.

DR. STEEN

(Smiles, raises glass)

And good brandy to warm bones both young and old.

BEN

To bones in need of warming.


(Both drink and DR. STEEN puts her

glass down and prepares to leave)

DR. STEEN

I have to look in on Mr. Ferguson. I like to be there when...when the time comes. I don’t think people should be alone then.

BEN

We all die alone. It doesn’t matter if there’s a crowd in the room and the entire world is holding a death watch, we all face that last rendezvous alone. It’s a one-on-one interview with the Grim Reaper and not a group affair.

DR. STEEN

You’re probably right. Maybe I’m really just comforting myself but I do it, anyway.

BEN

You’ve got a kind heart, Doc.


DR. STEEN

Watch the brandy, Ben.


(DR. STEEN leaves and BEN raises his glass to salute her when he spots still another movement in the shadows. The glass stops in mid-air and he leans forward and peers intently into the shadows as the guitar strums softly and grows slowly louder)

BEN

(Brandishing cane)

All right, I know you’re in there! Come out or I’ll come in after you, by God!

(A lean form dressed in black Spanish garb and wearing dark glasses emerges from the shadows and smiles at BEN)

GRIM

Good evening.


(BEN stares in wild disbelief at the sight before him as the sad voice of the singer is heard softly and grows stronger with the rising guitar)

BEN
You! I know you! We met in...in...!


GRIM
Spain. The summer of ‘37. How are you, Ben?


Music rises on tableau a

CURTAIN FALLS

ACT 11

SCENE 1

AT RISE: We hear the guitar and the voice of the singer and, as before, the music fades as the scene develops. With upraised cane, BEN stands facing GRIM as in a tableau. BEN slowly lowers his cane.

BEN

I don’t suppose this is a social call?


GRIM

I never make social calls.


BEN

How is it you remember my name? It’s been almost sixty years since last we met.


GRIM

I remember everyone’s name—at least, those of my clients.

BEN

Your...clients?


GRIM

Yes, the people in my territory, the ones I’m responsible for. It’s all on computers, you know.


BEN

(Incredulous)

You’ve got everybody on computers?


GRIM

Of course. How else could we possibly keep track of them all? We’ve been computerized for eons. We manage to get by with a simple card-file system until a planet’s population reaches a million or so, then we put them on computers and work from printouts like these.

(He holds up printouts)

BEN

Wait a minute, you said planets, plural. Have you got agents on Mars?

GRIM

Why would we have agents on Mars? Nobody lives there. I’m talking about the rest of the planets in the universe.

(Smiles)

Oh, that’s right. You think you’re the only ones.

BEN

You mean we’re not?


GRIM

Does it seem likely? You know something about the size of the universe and yet you still persist in thinking the entire affair was put together merely to house a single insignificant planet and provide employment for cosmologists. Of course there are others and...

(Indicates brandy)

Say, that is brandy you’re drinking, isn’t it?

BEN

Oh. I’m sorry. Would you like some?

(Reaches for a glass)

GRIM

Yes, I would, thanks. I find a little brandy relaxing. In fact, I shared a libation just an hour or so ago when I visited the governor.


BEN

(Stops pouring)

You visited the governor? Is he...dead, then?

GRIM

I’ve already said I don’t make social calls.

BEN

(Pours glass, hands it to GRIM)

But the governor was such a young man. I think he was only sixty-five or so, wasn’t he?


GRIM

So? Age is never a factor in my line of work. We don’t discriminate; we’re an equal opportunity concern and treat everyone exactly the same without regard for gender, race or country of national origin.

(Raises glass)

Cheers!

BEN

Now let me get this straight, Mr....?


GRIM

Since I’m known as the Grim Reaper, you can call me Grim.

BEN

All right...Grim. So you’ve got the Earth divided up into territories with an agent in charge of each territory...


GRIM

The universe, not just the Earth.


BEN

Right, the universe. And you have everybody on computers and when their time comes you stop round and pick ‘em up.

GRIM

That’s how it works. We take them in order, show no favoritism. When a name rises to the top of the list, I “pick ‘em up” as you say.


BEN

Does anyone resist going?


GRIM

Almost everyone—but no one ever regrets having gone.

BEN

Well, that’s encouraging. Some of my colleagues will be glad to hear that. If you never have any complaints, people must be pleased with where they end up.


GRIM

Or indifferent.


BEN

So which is it? Pleased or indifferent?


GRIM

(Shrugs)

Maybe it’s the same thing.


(BEN sips his brandy and GRIM moves about the room and assesses its decor and layout)

BEN

I saw Hemingway there. In Spain. He had a bandage on his head but he wasn’t dead.


GRIM

I know. I saw him, too.


BEN

Did you...pick him up?


GRIM

Not me. Shapiro got him.


BEN

Shapiro?

GRIM

Yes. Idaho is in Shapiro’s territory. It was a Sunday morning in July. He was wearing his pajamas, as I recall, and had an accident with a favorite shotgun. He was fond of hunting, you know.

BEN

An accident? I thought it was suicide.


GRIM

Does it matter?


(MARY enters from the dining room. GRIM sees her and moves to help her. MARY sees him but it takes her a moment to sort out who he is)

GRIM

Here, let me help you, Mary.


BEN

(Aside)

He knows her name. She must be in his territory, too.

MARY

Ah, thank you.

(She looks at GRIM fixedly)

Oh. Do I know you?


GRIM

Yes, I think you do. I have many friends.

BEN

Here, Mary, you should sit down...


MARY

(To GRIM)

Are you visiting someone at Sunnydale?


GRIM

You could say that, yes.


BEN

Look, this gentleman isn’t just a visitor here. By his own admission, he never makes social calls. He’s actually come on official business. It’s...he’s...the Grim Reaper. Grim, he calls himself.

MARY

The Grim Reaper? Don’t be silly. The Grim Reaper isn’t real, he’s...

BEN

Mary. Look in his eyes.


(MARY peers closely at GRIM’S eyes and

throws an arm up in a defensive posture)

MARY

Oh! He’s come for me! I know it! I’m dying! I can’t get my breath! Get Dr. Steen! Somebody call 911!


GRIM

You can relax. I haven’t come for you. You aren’t dying—at least not yet.

MARY

(Suddenly well again but still suspicious)

I’m not? You’re not just saying that to keep me quiet, are you? How do I know you aren’t just saying that so I won’t have a stroke or something?

GRIM

(Pulling our printouts)

Because it’s all right here in my printouts, see?

(Scans sheets)

Mary Hayes. Hmm. Ah, here you are way over here on page...well, never mind, the important thing is you aren’t scheduled for today.

MARY

Then you really are the Grim Reaper?

BEN

Don’t ask him to prove it!


(JACK enters from dining room)

JACK

Ask who to prove what?


BEN

Here we go again. We should have programs printed up and save a lot of time.

(To JACK)

Jack, I have the dubious honor of introducing you to Death himself. This gentleman is the Grim Reaper. You can call him Grim. He’s here on business.


JACK

Grim? No offense, but don’t you find that name a little off-putting? I mean, how many people are anxious to meet someone called Grim?

GRIM

Not many, actually, still...


BEN

Jack, it’s who he really is. He’s Death himself. We’re in his territory and he’s got us all on computers


JACK

(Grins)

Sure, and I’m Mother Teresa.


GRIM

(Brings out printouts and scans them)

No, you’re Jack Cutter, you’re eighty-nine years old and you were born in Syracuse, New York to a John and Sally Cutter. Your father died in April of ‘65 of injuries suffered in a fall and your mother died seven years later of congestive heart failure...


JACK

Oh, yeah? You don’t look like the Grim Reaper. If you ask me, you look like the Cisco Kid. If you really are him, where’s your hooded robe and scythe?


MARY

That’s right, how come you’re dressed as a Spaniard? The Grim Reaper isn’t Spanish, is he?


GRIM

I appear in many guises depending on the particular situation. I’m dressed as a Spaniard because that’s how Ben here envisions me and he’s the first one to see me tonight. I try to assume whatever form people expect so there’ll be less time wasted on just what I’m doing now, which is to convince you I am who I say I am. If you like, I can change into a robe and find a scythe somewhere...

(Looks around for a scythe)

MARY

Oh, that’s okay, we’ll take your word for it.

JACK

(Stunned)

You mean this guy really is the Grim Reaper?!

BEN

In the flesh—if one can use that term when referring to a shade. I saw him in Spain back in ‘37. He was dressed in black as he is now and he went about his work accompanied by a flamenco guitar and a singer singing a dirge.

(Shrugs)

I thought I’d lost him but apparently not. He knows where everybody is because he’s got us all on computers.


JACK

(To GRIM)

What are you doing here? This isn’t Spain and we don’t get much call for flamenco music in these parts, either.

GRIM

What better place for the Grim Reaper to be? Can you think of a more fertile ground for a man in my line of work? It happens that I spend a lot of my time in the Sunnydales of the world. It seems most of them are filled with people like yourselves, old-timers who’ve reached the end of the trail and are rather near the top of my printouts.

(Takes a drink and eyes glass)

Actually, it’s thoughtful of society that they take the trouble to gather all the old folks together in special places like this one. In former times, old people stayed with their families and I was forced to scurry all over creation to keep my appointments.


BEN

He picks ‘em up when their time runs out, Jack. At least, he does if they’re in his territory. He would have got Hemingway but he died in Idaho and that’s Shapiro’s territory.


JACK

Shapiro? Who the hell is Shapiro?


GRIM

A colleague. He works the Western states.

MARY

But if you’re not after me, who did you come for?

BEN

Uh, I think he’s probably come for, uh...

(BEN looks meaningfully at the ceiling)

MARY

Oh.

JACK

Him, eh?

(BEN moves to a chair and sits down

in it as JACK follows suit)


BEN

I don’t want to keep you if you have other calls to make, Grim, but we can at least offer our hospitality. Uh, do you have to drink and run or do you have a few minutes?


GRIM

Yes, we have some time.


BEN

Well, sit down then and we can talk. Would you like some more brandy?

GRIM

Yes, another brandy would hit the spot, if you don’t mind.

(Hands glass to BEN who pours brandy as GRIM sits and crosses his legs comfortably)

I find an occasional drink along the way gives flight to the blahs and raises one’s spirits in the bargain.

(Sighs)

There’s so little time and so much to do, you know.

(FR. HOGAN enters from the door leading to the living quarters. He has an eye fixed on the brandy bottle and doesn’t see GRIM at first)

FR. HOGAN

Ah, it’s dry work, I tell you. The last rites always give me a thirst.

BEN

We have a visitor, Padre. I want you to meet...

(FR. HOGAN looks up and spots GRIM and he reacts instantly)

FR. HOGAN

You!

(He crosses his fingers in front of him in the classic warding-off-evil posture and then fumbles in his clothing and comes out with a crucifix which he holds up before him)

FR. HOGAN (cont’d)
Stay back! I’m warning you! Make one wrong move and I’ll...I’ll..!

BEN

I take it you two have met before.


GRIM

We’re old friends, aren’t we, Fr. Hogan?

FR. HOGAN

Friends? Are you daft, man? I’d sooner be friends with the Devil himself than the likes of you!

GRIM

Really? That’s an odd remark for a man of the cloth, isn’t it?

FR. HOGAN

(Brandishing the crucifix, he edges toward the door to the dining room)

Don’t give me that! You’re no man’s friend, sir; you’re pestilence and plague is what you are.


GRIM

You’ve got it all wrong, Padre. The plague analogy applies more to your activities than mine. Remember all those holy wars?

FR. HOGAN

(Spreads arms and gestures for

people to move back)

Blasphemy! Stand back! There’ll be lightning bolts striking this place any second!

(To GRIM)

You attack the very foundations of the Holy Church and threaten the jobs of poor but honest vicars who’ve given their lives to holiness and good works and mock God and you’ll rue the day you

did so, sir!


BEN

Hey, I thought you didn’t believe in all that stuff?

GRIM

Like most people, the good padre sings a different tune when he meets me face to face. It never ceases to amaze me how lifelong sinners experience a sudden inexplicable renewal of faith when they reach the banks of the river Styx.


FR. HOGAN

You’ll never take me alive, you grinning skeleton!

(FR. HOGAN has reached the door to the dining room and he wheels and disappears through it with a remarkable display of agility for one nearly seventy)

GRIM

He’s right about that, of course. I never take anyone alive.

JACK

I would hope not.

(Pause)

I must say the padre’s behavior isn’t a very encouraging sight, is it? You’d think priests would have an inside track in this dying business and could put up a better front, but if they can’t face Death with any more equanimity than that how are the rest of us supposed to deal with it?

BEN

He told us what happens when the pope gets sick. I guess it’s the same with priests.


GRIM

At the very least, it shows an appalling lack of faith, don’t you think?



JACK

Or maybe it’s just good sense. After all, the padre has decamped and left us here to face you without benefit of clergy while he scoots to safety. Who can blame him?


BEN

Fr. Hogan won’t abandon us. He’s probably just gone for help.

JACK

Where’s he going to find it? Rome?


BEN

Give him a break. It’s not easy to get help to deal with this guy.

(At that moment FR. HOGAN reappears from the dining room carrying a large glass of water. He places it on an end table and stands back and makes a series of elaborate crosses in mid-air and mutters pseudo-Latin phrases and then points dramatically at it)

BEN

Holy water?


FR. HOGAN

Aye, and it’s not your run-of-the-mill holy water, either, but the holiest of holy water. You could exorcise all the demons of hell with this stuff and have enough left over to purify New York City.

(Takes a drink of it)

JACK

Are you supposed to drink holy water?


FR. HOGAN

(Nods at GRIM)

You can’t be too safe when he’s around.


(FR. HOGAN advances cautiously with glass in hand and dips his fingers into the water and flicks it around the room)

GRIM

(Smiles patronizingly)

An exercise in futility, Fr. Hogan. If I’d come for you, all the holy water in the Vatican’s reservoirs wouldn’t do you any good.

FR. HOGAN

(Stops in mid-sprinkle)

You aren’t after me? Are you sure?


GRIM
Of course I’m sure. Since when does Death have to resort to subterfuge? I’ve already told you, once a name comes up on the computer that man’s a goner every time and there’s an end to it. There are no exceptions, not even priests. So, you see, I’ll have you when I want you; I have no reason to dissemble.


FR. HOGAN
Then who did you come for?


BEN

Isn’t it obvious, Padre? You just punched his ticket for him, didn’t you?

FR. HOGAN

Oh, you mean Ferguson!


JACK

Isn’t that right? You are here for Ferguson, aren’t you?

(At this juncture WALT enters from the living quarters. He wears a pith helmet and carries papers. He is looking at the papers and doesn’t see GRIM)

WALT

Boys, I found a map of the place.

(Holds it up)

WALT (cont’d)
See, here’s the back wall and the swamp’s right over here. We rendezvous at midnight and duck out the back way, scale the wall here, and make a break for the swamp. Now they’re got Dobermans back here but it’s only about a fifty yards to the swamp and I figure we can outrun ‘em...

(He looks up and sees GRIM)

Who’s he?

BEN

He’s a visitor, Walt. He...


WALT

(Belligerently)

I don’t care who he is, he can’t come with us! Jesus Christ, we can’t take everybody. If we take anybody else, we’ll have to rent a goddam bus!

JACK

Don’t worry, he isn’t going with us.


FR. HOGAN

(Drily)

Too bad. Maybe you could lose him in the swamp.

JACK

This is Death, Walt. The Grim Reaper himself. It seems we’re in his territory.

BEN

And on his computer.


WALT

(Peering at GRIM)

Death? The Grim Reaper? Is it true?


GRIM

(Nodding)

At your service.


WALT

(Dejectedly)

Then it’s too late. I told you we should’ve gone before while there was still time but you wouldn’t listen. Well, now it’s too late. If we’d gone when I first wanted to we’d be in the city now and he’d never be able to find us, but hell, no, you guys said it couldn’t be done. You said we’d never make it over the wall or through the swamp or we were too old or you bitched because you couldn’t take your goddam luggage so we couldn’t go. Now when Death wants us all he has to do is ask directions to the nearest old folks’ home and here we are waitin’ to be rounded up like a lot of senile old fools who lack the gumption to save their own asses.

(He slowly crumples his map and

faces the audience and speaks

forlornly of missed chances)

We would’ve been the first ones to outfox the Grim Reaper. We were gonna be in the Guinness record book and sell our story to the movies and Robert Redford was gonna play me.

(WALT moves offstage muttering to

himself. Others watch him go in silence.

DR. STEEN enters as WALT leaves)

DR. STEEN

When’s the big breakout, gentlemen? Or has there been been a change of plans?

BEN

(Sighs)

“The best laid plans,” you know. The escape’s off, Doc.

JACK

(Jerks thumb at GRIM)

Walt found out you can’t run away from this guy.

FR. HOGAN

Say hello to the nemesis of the medical profession, Doc.

DR. STEEN

(Noticing GRIM)

Ah, we have a guest, I see.


BEN

He’s not exactly a guest since nobody invited him, but we treat him civilly, anyway. Doc Steen, may I present the Grim Reaper.

DR. STEEN

Pleased to meet...who?


JACK

He’s the real McCoy, Doc. He stopped by to get Ferguson.

GRIM

How are you, Doctor?


DR. STEEN

I don’t understand. Are you an undertaker?


GRIM

In a manner of speaking, yes. Actually, I might be called a precursor who announces the need for an undertaker’s services, but you could say we work in conjunction.


BEN

In other words, he’s Grim. The Grim Reaper in person.

DR. STEEN

Come now, you don’t mean you’re literally Death? Death isn’t a person dressed up like a Spaniard, it’s only a concept, a condition indicating extremely poor health.


FR. HOGAN

We’re not talking about medical school or the seminary here, Doc, we’re dealing with the real world and this man is who he says he is. I’ve known the rascal for years and can vouch for him personally.

GRIM

It’s true. My occupation is boatman and I ply the river Styx.

DR. STEEN

Now just a minute, please. I’m a scientist, a woman of reason and logic and fact, and I say death is completely intangible and simply can’t be found wearing a costume and lounging around people’s living rooms. These are the nineties and not the Middle Ages when such things were thought possible by ignorant peasants.


BEN

Tell that to the governor. Grim had a drink with him an hour or so ago and now he’s deader than a door nail.


DR. STEEN

What? The governor’s dead?


GRIM

Yes. I picked him up at the capitol myself. We had a sherry together.

DR. STEEN

If you’ve killed the governor, I think the authorities should be informed.

JACK

What good will that do? They can’t bring him back to life.

DR. STEEN

No, but they might want to talk to the one responsible for his death.

GRIM

I don’t cause death, Dr. Steen, I merely am Death. It happens that the governor died of a heart attack, a perfectly normal and legal way to depart this vale of tears.

DR. STEEN

I don’t care who you say you are, I say you just rented a Spaniard’s outfit in a costume shop and you’re deceiving these poor folks into believing you’re the Grim Reaper for some ulterior purpose. I’ve a good mind to call the police and have you arrested.


GRIM

(Musing)

Hmm, let’s see. Steen, Peter. A doctor in Toledo, Ohio. I picked him up on the eighth of April in ‘84. He died of a cerebral hemorrhage in his office while smoking a cigar. It was a Cuban cigar, a San Luis Rey Churchill. He gave me one and we had a smoke together before he died.

DR. STEEN

(Ashen-faced, stunned)

How could you know that unless...?


BEN

Unless he’s who he says he is?


DR. STEEN

My God!

GRIM

No, that’s another department. I just make deliveries.

DR. STEEN

(Dazed, searches for pen and paper)

I’ve got to take notes! I’ll write a paper. I’ll do an article for the AMA Journal, get an enormous grant from the government, maybe be nominated for a Nobel Prize!


BEN

Forget it, Doc. Who’d believe that Death came dressed as a Spaniard and drank brandy with a lot of senile old fogies in an old folks’ home? You’d be laughed out of the profession.


FR. HOGAN

Ben’s right. I work for people who’ve built an empire on smoke and mirrors and even they wouldn’t believe it. They’d figure I’d been at the altar wine again and have me worked over by an order of flagellant nuns.

JACK

Flagellant nuns, eh? Maybe I could go with you, Padre.

DR. STEEN

But this is unprecedented, it’s a scientific first! Why, it’s...!

GRIM

A miracle?

BEN

No, it can’t be a miracle. Miracles are always seen by eight-year-old children playing in the Spanish countryside who are gullible and entirely without credibility. Reliable witnesses who could give ‘em some credence never see miracles.


JACK

Why do you suppose that is?


BEN

Because there’s no such thing as a miracle, that’s why.

FR. HOGAN

He’s right, you know. The Church only invented miracles so they could dupe the true believer into buying souvenirs at Lourdes.

(FR. HOGAN has been surreptiously

flicking holy water around and now

he gets some on GRIM)

GRIM

(Brushing water from his sleeve)

Your actions belie your words, Padre. If you don’t believe in miracles, why are you drowning us in holy water?


BEN

It’s called hedging your bets.


GRIM

You’re right. My own experience bears it out. As we’ve already seen, it’s quite a different matter when one reaches trail’s end. Doubt turns to faith just in case.


DR. STEEN

(Just regaining wits)

But this is unbelievable! Here we are having a normal conversation with Death himself just as though we were entertaining a casual visitor!

(Leaning in earnestly)

Look, we may never have this chance again, Mr., uh, Grim, so can you tell us about, well, everything?


GRIM

You needn’t fear, Doctor, each of you will meet me again and we’ll talk then.

BEN

Yeah, but it’ll be a damn short conversation.


JACK

Just long enough to drink a quick brandy or smoke a cigar.

FR. HOGAN

Aye, and we’ll not have the chance to tell anyone else what we found out, either.


DR. STEEN

So come on, tell us what it’s all about.

GRIM

(Examines glass)

They say there’s truth in wine or, in this case, brandy, so maybe if I could have another snifter I’d be sufficiently loosened up to answer a few general questions.


FR. HOGAN

By all means, send the bottle round, Ben. No sense in our guest being the only one who’s loose.


BEN

(Dubiously)

I don’t know, Padre. Much more brandy and I’ll be looser than a politician’s morals.

(As BEN moves to pour brandy, MARY

enters from living quarters)

MARY

(To GRIM)

You still here? Next thing we know you’ll be wanting breakfast.

GRIM

I heard what Ben said about the cooking earlier so I think I’ll pass on breakfast. Besides, I’ll be on my way before then.

MARY

Good. I don’t think I’d sleep a wink if I knew you were down here all night. I’d be afraid you’d sneak up and get me in the dark.

BEN

Now there’s a cheery thought. I’ll never turn a light off again.

(The phone rings and DR. STEEN

picks it up)

DR. STEEN

Yes?

(Listens, bites lip)

Yes, I’ll be right there.

(Hangs up, turns to others)

It’s Mr. Ferguson. Come on, Padre, there may not be much time.

FR. HOGAN

(Following DR. STEEN out)

What’s the hurry? Ferguson isn’t goin’ anywhere as long as Death’s down here in the parlor drinkin’ our brandy.

BEN

Say, that’s right. How can Ferguson cash in his chips if you’re down here with us?


GRIM

He can’t.

JACK

Then that means...?


(GRIM drains his brandy glass and smacks his lips. BEN sees him eyeing the bottle again. GRIM’S getting a little drunk; in fact, from this point

BEN

Have another snifter of brandy. It’ll take your mind off your work.

GRIM

I really shouldn’t, but why not? After all, what harm can it do? Sure, I’ll have one more for the road.


(BEN pours a generous dollop into GRIM’S

glass and adds a dash to his own)

BEN

(Raises glass)

Salud!

JACK

Where are you off to when you leave here, Grim?

GRIM

(Scans printouts)

Oh, there’ll be some shootings in a drug war on the East Side and I’ve got some stops to make at local hospitals. Then about midnight a man will run amuck downtown and kill, let’s see, three, no, four people outside a bar and the police will come and kill him. Some miscellaneous deaths here and there and that’s about it until morning when there’ll be a head-on collision on a freeway ramp that kills both drivers and four passengers on their way home from a church outing and after that...

BEN

Jesus, that’s awful! You go from one tragedy to another, for God’s sake. Mary’s right, you’ve got a really lousy job.

GRIM

It’s a living.


JACK

Not for your clients, it isn’t.


MARY

What do you do for recreation, then?


GRIM

Aside from an occasional brandy or cigar with a client, I don’t socialize much. Sometimes I take in a ballgame or go for a sail but every time I show up somewhere somebody ends up dying and it tends to put a damper on the entertainment. For example, I went to a soccer game in Argentina once and the fans rioted and trampled almost two-hundred people to death and they called the game off.

(Sighs heavily)

It seems the Grim Reaper reaps grimness wherever he goes.

BEN

(Sarcastically)

It figures. You’re not exactly the life of this party, either.

MARY

I hardly think Mr. Grim will ever be the life of any party unless it’s a convention of undertakers or coffin makers.

GRIM

(Defensively)

It’s not all my fault, you know. People are prejudiced against me. I ought to file an anti-discrimination suit against them, charge them with violating my civil rights. We’re supposed to be living in a democracy, aren’t we? If that’s true, I should have some rights, too.

BEN

But you aren’t living at all, Grim.

(To JACK)

I don’t think the Constitution guarantees rights to dead people, does it?

JACK

Even if it did dead people never complain. You can’t have a civil rights violation if nobody files a complaint.


GRIM

Oh, I don’t think it would help much if I did complain. The courts tell people what they want to hear and most of them don’t want to hear anything good about me.


JACK

Most people don’t even want to talk about you let alone listen to you bitch about how everyone abuses you. You’re stuck with it. A skyscraper full of PR guys couldn’t make you popular if you were their only account.


BEN

Hey, now’s our chance. Every time we start to have a serious talk something interrupts us. Let’s get some answers for once here. Exactly what’s waiting for us out there? Do we go to heaven? Is there a place called hell and do people actually go there? Give us the lowdown on what’s really going on.


GRIM

I thought you knew what was going on. You’re the cynic and scoffer, aren’t you?

BEN

Damn right I am! I never did buy any of their crap and I never will.

(Shrugs)

Still, it’d be nice to get it first hand, as it were.

GRIM

Then you aren’t sure?

BEN

I’m not worried, I’ll tell you that. I’m a fatalist to the last. I say a man should look death—you—straight in the face and stand tall and take his medicine like a man because it’s all a lot of crap, that’s what I always say.

(Turns to JACK)

Don’t I always say that, Jack?


GRIM

(Weaving slightly)

Yes, but are you sure?

BEN

Sure I’m sure—at least, I’m pretty sure.

GRIM

Next thing you know you’ll be drinking holy water with the padre.

MARY

Never mind all that. Tell us what’s waiting for us on the other side.

GRIM

I can’t.

JACK

You mean you won’t.


GRIM

I mean I shouldn’t.


MARY

Then you will?


GRIM

It’s against policy. People die, then we tell them. It’s...it’s traditional.

BEN

(Extending bottle)

More brandy?


GRIM

Ah, you hope to loosen my tongue with drink, do you? I accept the challenge. Fill ‘er up!



JACK

(Aside to MARY)

Don’t tell anyone, but he’s looking looser by the minute to me.

MARY

(Aside)

He’s getting drunk is what he’s doing.


JACK

(Aside)

Isn’t that what I just said?


BEN

(Raises glass)

To...well, I was going to drink to your health, but I hardly think that’s appropriate since you don’t have any health to drink to.

GRIM

(With a mischievous grin)

Then we’ll drink to yours.


(FR. HOGAN hurries in. He holds a glass of water in his hand and flips holy water around and blesses the place)

FR. HOGAN

Aye, it’s the first time in my life I’ve ever known this stuff to work!

BEN

What happened? Did Ferguson...?


FR. HOGAN

I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it with my very own eyes! I’d say it was a miracle if I didn’t know better.

JACK

(To BEN)

I thought there weren’t any miracles?


BEN

There aren’t. Padre, what...?


DR. STEEN

(Enters excitedly from living quarters)

I’ve never seen anything like it in my entire career! I’ll write a paper on it for the Journal!

(To others)

Mr. Ferguson is alive, he’s well again! He’s completely cured!

BEN

What the hell are you talking about? The man was at death’s door five minutes ago. The padre even gave him the last rites and everybody knows you’re a dead man once you get the last rites.

DR. STEEN

Listen, I don’t know how to explain it, but Mr. Ferguson was drawing his last breath, his heart was gone, no pulse, heart monitor almost a straight line. Fr. Hogan was filling the air with incantations and obscure Latin phrases and all of a sudden Mr. Ferguson opened his eyes and sat up and asked me to get him one of his cigars!

JACK

Amazing!

BEN

Jesus!

MARY

A miracle!

BEN

Hey, wait a minute. Something’s not kosher here.

FR. HOGAN

(Looking around)

I hope nothing’s kosher here!

BEN

But don’t you see? If Ferguson’s not dying, then who is?

(All are dumbstruck. They turn and stare at GRIM where he sits leaning forward tipsily on his chair, brandy glass in hand. He looks back at them)

GRIM

I came for you—Ben.


BEN

Me?!

GRIM

Yes, you.

BEN

But...but you said you came for Ferguson!


GRIM

No, you said I came for Ferguson. I never said whom I came for.


BEN

(BEN moves distractedly, looks at

JACK and then GRIM)

But I’m not ready to go now. I mean, I’ve got things to do, plans, unfinished business. It’s not convenient now; in fact, it’s downright inconvenient.

MARY

I should think it would be inconvenient to be told without any advance notice. How is one expected to prepare oneself if the news comes out of the blue this way? There should be a warning, some kind of sign or something.

RIM

What can I say?


FR. HOGAN

How about it’s all a mistake? You could say that, couldn’t you?


GRIM

No, I can’t, because it’s not a mistake.


BEN

Wait a minute. You said we’re all on computers, right? Well, computers make mistakes all the time. Everybody knows that. How do we know this isn’t just another computer error?


JACK

Ben’s right, you know. Computers make a lot of mistakes. They stopped sending my Social Security checks for six months because some half-wit hit the wrong key.


GRIM

(Starts to check printouts)

You could be right. Why don’t I just check my printouts and see?

(To JACK)

Maybe it is a mistake, maybe it should have been Jack Cutter instead of Ben Sheehan.

JACK

(Alarmed)

No, wait. That’s okay. You can put your printouts away; we’ll take your word for it.

(To BEN)

Sorry, Ben, looks like your number’s up.

BEN

(Reaches for printouts)

Here, let me see those.

(Pulls printouts toward him and

scans them. GRIM still holds them)

Sheehan, Ben. Right under the governor. Damn.

MARY

How do we know it’s the right Ben Sheehan? There must be more than one in the world.



FR. HOGAN

Mary’s right! There must be hundreds of Ben Sheehans out there. I’ll bet there’s a hundred in Dublin alone.

(Looks around)

Give us a phone book here. We’ve probably got thirty or forty Ben Sheehans right here in town.


BEN

Look, maybe we can make a deal. Aren’t deals almost a tradition with you? How about if I sign my soul over to you in exchange for another, say, twenty years? We can put it in writing if you like, all nice and legal. Then, when the time’s up, I’ll go voluntarily and you get to keep my soul. How’s that strike you?

GRIM

You’ve got the wrong guy. Satan makes the deals. Remember Faust? I’m only a delivery service. Besides, you’ll go when your time is up, voluntarily or otherwise.


MARY

Can’t you do something, Padre? Put a curse on him or get help from some angels or something?


FR. HOGAN

Ah, I would if I could, Mary, but not even the Church can stop Death from his appointed rounds.


JACK

I thought that was the mailman?


BEN

I need a drink.


GRIM

Me, too.

JACK

We all do.

FR. HOGAN

Methinks I need two drinks. Make mine a double.

(BEN gets the bottle and pours drinks for himself and GRIM. He gives GRIM extra and hands bottle to JACK who pours for others. MARY refuses)

BEN

(Raises glass)

To the future—whatever it is.


MARY

Or wherever it is.


FR. HOGAN

Or if there is one.


(All mutter appropriate comments as they drink. GRIM wipes his mouth and grins a slightly foolish grin)

GRIM

(Heartily)

Cheer up, folks. Look on the bright side of things. You’d think you were going to a funeral.


DR. STEEN

(Frowning)

A cheap shot, Grim.


MARY

Bad taste, too.


FR. HOGAN

And not funny, either.

GRIM
Come now. Where’s your sense of humor?

JACK

You’re no stand-up comic, Grim.

BEN
Ah, maybe he’s right. It is kind of funny in a way. I took the whole thing in stride as long as I thought Ferguson was the guest of honor. Then I found out I’m the one Grim’s after and all of a sudden it’s a horse of a different color. There’s a certain amount of humor in that, isn’t there?


GRIM

Spoken like a true sport. It’s all in how you look at it.

BEN

Is the jig up then? Have I run out of time? What’s the deadline—if you’ll excuse the pun?


GRIM

Oh, you have some time yet, there’s no reason we can’t be civil about this and avoid unseemly haste.


MARY

Good, because on several occasions you were about to tell us what it’s like to be dead and you never got around to it.

BEN

(Ruefully)

Somehow I’m not quite so anxious as I once was to find that out, Mary. I guess now that I’m on the verge of kicking the bucket it doesn’t mean the same anymore. After all, I’ll have the answer before the night’s over in any case.


JACK

But the rest of us aren’t going anywhere and we want to know.

DR. STEEN

Yes, I’d like to do a paper on it.


FR. HOGAN

I think I know the answer but I’m with them. So go ahead, make it official.

BEN

Okay, let’s have it. After life, what?

(GRIM looks blearily at his audience and finishes off his drink. He struggles to sit upright and assume a measure of dignity)

GRIM

All right, I’ll make an exception this one time if you’ll promise not to tell anybody what you learn. There’s no sense in alarming all mankind. Deal?


DR. STEEN

Agreed!

JACK

Okay.

FR. HOGAN

Get on with it, man!


BEN

No tricks now. We want the whole truth.

(GRIM rises and stands unsteadily before them. He blinks a few times and tries to straighten up. Everyone watches him closely)

GRIM

There is a heaven and it’s even more magnificent than anyone ever imagined.

MARY

Oh!

GRIM

You’ll see all your old friends there, your former husbands and wives and parents and grandparents, too. Of course, there’s some confusion if you were married five or six times and have that many former mates to sort out but it all works out in the end. You keep your present body, too. Unfortunately, it’s whatever body you happen to have when you die, so very old people will be very old people for eternity and...

MARY

(Shudders)

You mean I’ll look like this forever?!


BEN

And I’ll never get it up again?


JACK

(To the others)

What are you complaining about?

(Shakes IV)

I’ll never get a square meal again. I’ll have to drag this thing around for the rest of eternity!


DR. STEEN

(Eagerly, pen poised)

Good, good. What else?


GRIM

It’s overwhelmingly beautiful there. The streets are paved with gold even though that’s rather meaningless since gold has no value in heaven. People wear silk clothing and rare jewels and gather in huge multitudes before God’s throne and worship Him for eons at a time without even breaking for lunch. Mozart is piped throughout heaven in an enormous Muzak system and choruses of angels sing Bach oratorios and there’s a glorious light shining over everything.

(He stops and everyone waits

expectantly. DR. STEEN looks up)

DR. STEEN

Yes, go on.

GRIM

That’s about it.


MARY

Do you mean that’s all there is?


FR. HOGAN

Well, sir, heaven sounds pretty boring to me.

GRIM

Oh, you won’t have to worry about it, Padre; you won’t be going to heaven. None of you will.


BEN

Why the hell not?


DR. STEEN

Yes, if people like us don’t get in, who does?

GRIM

Seventh Day Adventists, that’s who. You see, the Seventh Day Adventists are right, only one in millions goes to heaven—and it’s all foreordained. All of you have committed too many sins. A few million years on a spit in purgatory wouldn’t help atone for them.

MARY

You mean we’re all going to hell, then?

GRIM

Yes, Dante’s hell. It’s got levels. One for fornicators...

BEN

(Glumly)

That’s me.

GRIM

...and one for adulterers...


BEN

That’s me, too.


GRIM

...and one each for cheaters and liars and boozers and gamblers and double-dealers and cigar smokers...


BEN

What?! I’ll have to rent rooms on every goddam floor!

GRIM

And that’s not all. You’ll receive endless reports of bad news. All your friends will enjoy enormous successes while all your plans will fail utterly. Your children will move back home and bring three or four kids with them. Your taxes will be audited every week; you’ll sell short in bull markets, and each calamity will be followed by another for all eternity.

JACK

Hey, whatever happened to plain old fire and brimstone?

DR. STEEN

Jack’s right. Even congressmen don’t deserve all that.

MARY

(Drily)

Actually, that sounds about right for a congressman.

FR. HOGAN

Wait a minute, the rascal’s puttin’ us on here. Everyone knows hell is only a metaphor, something invented by the Church to keep people in line. Nobody believes that malarkey anymore.

BEN

The padre’s got a point, Grim. This isn’t rural Georgia, you can’t scare us with a lot of crap designed for ignorant farmers and village half-wits.

DR. STEEN

You’re lying, aren’t you?


MARY

You can see it in his eyes.


JACK

He hasn’t got any eyes.


FR. HOGAN

Out with it, man! You are lying.

GRIM

Yes, I am.

MARY

But you promised you’d tell the truth. Why not tell it then?

GRIM

It’s what you expected to hear, isn’t it? You’ve heard stories of pearly gates and angels and wondrous music and I didn’t want to disappoint you, that’s all.


JACK

Play fair, Grim. You said you’d tell us, so do it.

GRIM

All right, I will. But before I do let me ask you something. Are you absolutely sure you want the truth? My experience has shown that the truth is usually the last thing anybody wants to hear. Most people prefer illusion to reality because reality makes them see themselves as they really are and not as they imagine themselves to be.

BEN

We know all that but most people aren’t ninety years old and looking you in the face. What have we got to lose by knowing the truth? Especially me?

GRIM

You, not much. Some of the others, a great deal.


MARY

We don’t care. Tell us.


DR. STEEN

The real truth this time.


GRIM

(Stands erect and eyes his audience)

Very well, you shall have it.

(Pauses dramatically)

Nothing. There is nothing at all.


MARY

Nothing at all?!


JACK

So the trail ends here!


DR. STEEN

Astonishing!


BEN

I knew it!

FR. HOGAN

Wait’ll I tell the pope!


(All lapse into a heavy silence as each contemplates GRIM’S words. WALT enters upstage center and stops to study his map)

BEN

Nothing!

GRIM

Not a thing. Life is a briefly flickering light between two periods of limitless darkness. It lasts only as long as the light, a thin sliver of sandwiched light, and you go back where you came from.


MARY

I’m glad. Heaven sounds dull and hell unbelievable. Besides, I’m tired. Going to sleep and never waking up doesn’t seem so scary to me now. In fact, I’m almost looking forward to it some day...

(Comes to, looks at GRIM)

...but not just yet, thank you.


GRIM

Half nodding, sleepily)

Even I value such a sleep, Mary.


BEN

Well, I don’t. If I’m going to be dead for eternity, I’m in no big hurry to get there.

(To GRIM)

You sure we can’t make a deal? You give me twenty more years and I’ll go up there and strangle Ferguson and you can take him in my place.

GRIM

Satan makes deals, remember?


BEN

Let’s get Satan in here then. If Faust could sell out, why can’t I?

GRIM

We’re wasting time. We should be on our way.

BEN

So. The moment of truth, eh?

(Looks around)

The trail ends here. It’s a powerful moment, you know, an incredible moment. I’ve known it was coming for eighty years and I’m still overwhelmed by it. I can’t imagine the world without me, not missing a single beat, unaware that I was here at all. An image in someone’s mind for a few years, a scrap of handwriting here and there, some old pictures, and then nothing at all. It makes it all seem so trivial somehow, so unimportant, so pointless, even


BEN (cont’d)

(Pause)

So it’s over then. Just a little sandwiched light, awake for a while and then asleep again.

(Shrugs)

It’s like a dream, a very short dream in a very long night.

(BEN stops and the others remain unmoving and silent. He raises his eyes and looks at GRIM and then at WALT with suddenly renewed interest)

GRIM

Well spoken, Ben.

(Starts to rise)

Now, if you’re ready, we’ll be on our way.

BEN

(Stalling now)

Uh, wait, uh, maybe one last drink before we go. After all, we’re talking about eternity here. What’s a minute or two more?

GRIM

But I have other stops to make. Those drug dealers are on their way to that shootout and I have to be there to round them up.

(Blinks)

Still, maybe I’ll have another finger or two of that brandy before we leave just to steady my nerves.


FR. HOGAN

Me, too. It’s been a long day for a holy man.

(JACK pours brandy for everyone. BEN looks at WALT again and takes the bottle from JACK and pours another three fingers of brandy for GRIM)

BEN

Drink hearty, Grim. You’re going to have a busy night.

(Aside)

Even busier than you know.


GRIM

(Stifles yawn)

All my nights are busy, and my days, too.

BEN

(To JACK, sotto voce)

Distract Grim for a minute.


(BEN moves to WALT as JACK nods alertly)

JACK

(To GRIM, pointing at the TV)

Would you look at that? Another boatload of Haitians went down off Florida.

GRIM

Oh, yes, that’s Meikowski’s territory. Good man. He’ll have them all rounded up before the tide goes out.


(All eyes on TV while BEN talks to WALT)

WALT

(Urgently, sotto voce)

We’re all set. I’ve got the rope and a map and a flashlight. All we have to do is outrun the Dobermans and...

BEN

Is the escape still on? I thought you canceled it when Grim showed up?

WALT

Who?



BEN

Grim.

(Jerks thumb over shoulder)

Mr. Death over there.


WALT

Naw, it’s back on. I figure what have I got to lose? If I stay here I’m a goner for sure.

(Leans in)

You goin’ with that guy, Ben? You givin’ up?

BEN

Not me, Walt. I’m going over that goddam wall! Are you ready to rendezvous?

WALT

Why? Is it midnight?


BEN

On the nose.


WALT

Then I’m ready, by God!


BEN

Good. Look, I’ve got to stall Grim a bit. He’s drunk but I want him drunker still. If I can get him to drink the rest of the bottle, he’ll never find his way through that swamp.

WALT

(Looking at GRIM)

Looks like he can hardly stand up now.

BEN

Don’t let him fool you. He’s tough. He’s been around forever and knows all the tricks. Have you got everything?




WALT

Just about. Let’s see, I got a flashlight and a map and... I need a ladder for that wall, that’s what I need. That bastard’s an eight-footer, you know.

BEN

There’s a stepladder out back by the kitchen. Some painters were using it to paint the garage.

WALT
Hey, I think it’s by the wall now! I saw it earlier. I’ll go check.

BEN

Right. Give me a sign when you’re ready.

WALT

Okay.

(WALT looks around surreptiously and starts out as BEN tries to assume a nonchalant attitude and rejoins the others. JACK looks meaningfully at him and DR. STEEN cocks a quizzical eyebrow. BEN frowns to warn them off)

DR. STEEN

I guess you’ve had your fair share of interesting moments, Grim.

MARY

Yes, you must have met a lot of important people over the years.

GRIM

Oh, I don’t like to brag, of course, but you could say I’ve had some pretty interesting moments in my time. I remember, for example, when I picked up Julius Caesar in 44 BC. It sticks in my mind because it was such a close call that I got him at all.

DR. STEEN

Do you mean he almost didn’t die when he was supposed to?


GRIM

That’s right, and it was all that damn soothsayer’s fault, too. I was supposed to get him on the fifteenth of March and I even canceled a tryst I’d arranged with a lady colleague who worked Spain. Well, when Caesar was on his way to the forum where I was waiting for him along with the conspirators, he was stopped by the soothsayer who told him to beware the ides of March. Remember?

(Others nod, concur)

Caesar hesitated and almost didn’t go on to the forum. Just think of that. Why, if he’d gone home all those conspirators would have been disappointed and Mark Antony never would have got to make that famous speech of his and Brutus would have stayed an underling forever.

(Leans in confidentially)

To tell the truth, I went and gave Caesar’s toga a little tug to make sure he wouldn’t change the course of history by being late for his own death.

(As GRIM concludes, WALT reappears at center stage and BEN sees him and slides over to him. They talk silently)

MARY

I’m glad you did, too. Julius Caesar has always been one of my favorite plays.

(They fall silent for a moment or two while WALT and BEN confer. BEN tugs a length of rope to test its durability and WALT indicates key points on his map. After a bit, WALT puts the stuff down and hurries out for additional escape paraphernalia. BEN saunters back to rejoin group and he winks and nods knowingly at others)

FR. HOGAN

Tell me, Grim, what would happen if Caesar had listened to the soothsayer and gone home to bed?


GRIM

There’d be hell to pay, that’s what. If someone missed his appointment, it would throw the whole schedule off and we’d have people everywhere missing their own deaths in an endless chain reaction. We’d have to go on overtime to catch up.

(Stifles yawn)

Say, that reminds me. I’ve got to get going or I’ll miss that shootout.

DR. STEEN

What time does it start?


GRIM

Nine sharp.

(Looks at clock)

That’s in twelve minutes.


BEN

A final drink then. May as well finish off this brandy or it’ll go to waste.

FR. HOGAN

Aye, and as it’s a sin to waste good brandy, it wouldn’t do to die with that on your conscience.


BEN

(Empties the bottle into GRIM’S glass)

It’s a custom here that the honored guest has the last drink in the bottle, isn’t it, Doc?


DR. STEEN

Oh, yes. Practically a law.


GRIM

(Dubiously, yawning again)

Well, okay, I don’t want it said I flew in the face of tradition. But this is definitely the last one.


(BEN looks to stage center rear and WALT appears. BEN gestures to JACK and moves to join WALT. JACK leads GRIM on as BEN and WALT confer)

JACK

What other famous people did you pick up, Grim?

FR. HOGAN

Did you ever collect a pope?


MARY

Or a famous movie star?


GRIM

Oh, I’ve collected them all. Rich and poor, famous and unknown, young and old, popes and pickpockets, all of them. Back in 1876 I was covering Shapiro’s territory out West when he was out of town and I collected General Custer at the Little Big Horn.

DR. STEEN

No kidding?

JACK

General Custer, eh?


GRIM

That’s right, got the general and all his men—and a whole lot of Indians, too. It was a great day for the Indians but I don’t think the general enjoyed it much.

(Stifles a yawn. At left BEN and WALT

continue their soundless dialogue)

MARY

You look tired, Grim. I guess you’ve had a hard day, what with collecting the governor and all. I’d imagine you put in some pretty long hours and don’t always get your proper rest, do you?

GRIM

That’s the truth. A lot of long hours. And it’s a thankless job, too,

and emotionally draining. Most people are not glad to see me and I’m always on the road and I do get pretty sleepy sometimes.

(GRIM’S head drops and BEN sees it and moves a few steps toward the group. JACK puts a finger to his lips and the others remain motionless, watching)

FR. HOGAN

I think we’ve got the rascal!


GRIM

(Suddenly looks up)

Huh? What?

MARY

(Shushes the padre)

Shhh!

(Softly to GRIM)

You were just resting your eyes, that’s all. You’re tired and your eyes are heavy and you’re very sleepy. You should put your head down and rest your eyes for a few minutes. You’ll feel much better if you do.

(GRIM, overtaken by booze and fatigue, nods off. BEN and WALT join others)

JACK

You’re going to make a break for it, Ben?

BEN

(Resolutely)

Damn right. It’s the swamp or Grim so what the hell.

JACK

I’m coming, too.


BEN

That’s a good idea. When I was looking at Grim’s printouts, I saw your name on the bottom of the page. He’ll be back for you by the weekend.

JACK

What?!

(Looks fiercely at GRIM)

Why, that no good...!


WALT

Will you guys get a move on? We haven’t got all night, goddam it!


MARY

What about my luggage?


BEN

Mary, you can’t come. You’ll never make it through the swamp.

MARY

Maybe not, but I’m not staying back here with him. You wait while I get my stuff.


JACK

Will you hurry up, for Christ’s sake? If he wakes up, Ben’ll be a goner—and so will I!


(MARY hurries off)

BEN

Okay, it’s D-Day. Are we ready?


JACK

Yeah. Let’s get started.

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