RE-LIFE

Written by

Andrew Biando

Abiand20@student.scad.edu2158407696

ACT 1

DINER

(The right half of the stage is the emptiness of creation called Darkness. During the play it will become the settings of the world outside of the diner, whatever they may be.

The left half stage is reminiscent of a diner. Yet, it could only be called normal if you squinted your eyes. The counter juts out and leans in at odd angles. Skewed tables are carved into weird oblong shapes, and the colors seem too saturated. Smoke whiffs about the ground, completing the dreamy feel of the place.

A WAITER wipes down a glass counter. Above her, a large signs shout promises of home made pies and burgers in 1950’s Americana font. Behind her is an order window, leading to the kitchen.

By a table is a SWINGER in a tux, reading from a faded newspaper. At the bar is a FORGETFUL TRAINMAN. He stares dumbly at the toy train tracks that encircles the stage.)

FORGETFUL TRAINMANTonight’s the night.

WAITER‘Course it is.

FORGETFUL TRAINMANI’m gonna do it. I’m serious.

WAITERYou are every time.

FORGETFUL TRAINMANBut I mean it this go around. I’m gonna get my rifle, put it in my mouth, and pull that trigger.

WAITERHoney. Ya’ll ready did it.

FORGETFUL TRAINMANI did?

She puts the cloth down and exposes her wrists. There is a gash across them.

WAITERWe all did.

“Toot, Toot!” A toy train chugs around the stage, giving off a little steam whistle as it passes the pair. In its cargo caboose it brings a red letter.

WAITER (CONT’D)What’s the chances that’s my Re-Life acceptance letter?

SWINGERSlim to none.

WAITERThanks for the vote of confidence old man. Let’s get it over with... “Dear Waiter of the illustrious diner...” Well ain’t she the little faker... “You will soon have the privilege of a new patron!” What? But... “See attached for details. Your friendly Rep, Muerte.”

She pulls a newspaper clipping from the envelope, and reads as well.

WAITER (CONT’D)At nine AM Thursday Morning, Police found a oddly dressed man dead on West Manchester Mansio porch. Oh no. That’s in ten minutes. We ain’t having no odd rich boy here. I’m givin’ that little bitch a piece of my mind!

She goes to grab her rain coat, pulls up the collar, and throws open the door. THUNDER FLASH!

At the door is MUERTE. She is all business. Her colorful pink hair is tied back into a bun, fully exposing her Day of the Dead painted makeup. Clipped to her ear is a blue-tooth in the shape of a scythe.

MUERTEWell doesn’t it just smell as fresh as pie in here.

WAITERIf it isn’t my local death representative Muerte, what a pleasant surprise! Right guys?

A very... very half hearted cheer comes from the others.

2.

WAITER (CONT’D) So... buddy... Did ya get my Re-Life application, yet?

MUERTECourse I did. I remember you sent it in the day President Truman died. What a sad day...

WAITERYeah, me and Regan were chatting about that a few years ago.

MUERTEOh, has it been that long? Rigamortis and Firm just has so many applicants to go over in such a short time...

WAITERYeah, so it’s stuck in limbo. Just like me. Do me a favor and take a look at it already?

MUERTEI wouldn’t know why you’d like to go. It’s such a charming little place you have here...

She explores the diner, running her finger along the counter. Grease patch. She wipes it off on the seat with disdain.

MUERTE (CONT’D)How about a burger and fries, hmm?

WAITERLittle miss busy body is actually going to bless us by sitting down for a moment at our lowly establishment?

MUERTEOf course not. I’d never eat these grease slabs you call burgers. But my nine-a-clock should be coming along in...

A sneeze.

MUERTE (CONT’D)Oh, there he is now. Try to be presentable for a change.

3.

Muerte goes to the door.

WAITERHave I ever told you how much I hate her?

FORGETFUL TRAINMANI can’t remember.

WAITERWell I do. A lot.

The tinkling of a bell again. SNIFFING BOY enters, face set in a perpetual sneeze. If that wasn’t odd enough, he also dons a bright green fleece onesie. The hood, has two giant googly eyes glued on, triangle white felt teeth along the brim, and red ones pretending to be spikes going down the spine.

SNIFFING BOYUm... hello?

WAITERNo way weirdo. Scram.

SNIFFING BOYI’m sorry. I’m a little confused here.

WAITERDon’t care. I’m full. No vacancies.

MUERTEOh come now. Don’t be so mean. You can’t just put this boy out on the streets.

WAITERWanna bet?

MUERTEHe’s already been assigned here.

WAITERMuerte, I have my hands full already with the sleezeball, the dumbo and the big hulking guy in the back.

FORGETFUL TRAINMANI’m not hulking.

4.

WAITERNo, you’re the dumb guy.

FORGETFUL TRAINMANOh, OK...Hey!

WAITERAh, forget about it.

FORGETFUL TRAINMAN...Huh?

MUERTESorry, its already been decided.

WAITERWell undecide it.

SNIFFING BOYCan someone please tell me what’s going on here?

WAITERYou’re dead. Muerte, you don’t know what it’s like here...

SNIFFING BOYWait, what?

WAITERCan’t you read?

She points to the window and a neon sign flickers to life. “Afterlife Diner. Open Late.”

WAITER (CONT’D)Open late. Doesn’t get much later than this does it?

SNIFFING BOYThat’s... That doesn’t make any...

FORGETFUL TRAINMANShe means you’re dead.

SNIFFING BOYDead?

WAITERDead, done, eternal sleep, six feet under.

5.

SWINGERHam sandwiched, assumed room temperature.

FORGETFUL TRAINMANBit the dust, dead as a doornail.

WAITERSnuffed, taken your last bow, kicked the bucket.

SWINGERWorms food.

WAITEROhh, I forgot that one. Dead, get it?

SNIFFING BOYBut I’m not dead.

MUERTEWell actually you are. Reason for death: brain aneurysm.

SWINGERWhat’d he have cancer or somethin’?

MUERTEHeld back a sneeze.

WAITERHa! You died from a sneeze.

SNIFFING BOYSays who!

MUERTEMy clipboard. See?

SNIFFING BOYWho are you!?

MUERTESanta Muerte, Death representative of Middle America and Mexico.

SNIFFING BOYSo you’re the grim reaper?

6.

MUERTENo, I’d like to think of myself as perky.

WAITERNot how I’d put it.

MUERTEHe’s staying here and that’s, that.

WAITERFine, I’ll take him on, but if, and only if you promise to look at my application this year.

MUERTEMaybe.

WAITERI swear I’ll starve him to death if you don’t. Well, death again. Newbie delivered to unfit home curtesy of our own Santa Muerte. How’s that going to look on your yearly review.

MUERTEFine. I’ll take your application out of the file cabinet and add it the review pile...

WAITERIt wasn’t already in that pile already?!

MUERTEI should be going. Death waits for no woman!

SNIFFING BOYOr Man!

MUERTEHmm?

SNIFFING BOYMan or woman. I like being fair. Everyone should be happy and feel included.

MUERTEIs that so? You seem like a very optimistic guy. Waiter will love that bit of sunshine.

7.

WAITERGreat.

She pushes a manila folder into Sniffing Boys arms then leaves in huff.

SNIFFING BOYI don’t feel dead... I think I can still feel my heart beating.

WAITERPhantom flutters. Takes awhile to get used to. Hungry?

SNIFFING BOYIf your offering, sure!

WAITEROK, on one condition.

SNIFFING BOYYeah?

WAITERThis whole happy thing your doing. Do less of it.

SNIFFING BOYWhat do you have against a bit of cheer in this place?

WAITERLook around...

Another thunder crack. The rain starts coming down hard.

WAITER (CONT’D)There’s your answer. Burger good?

Waiter takes a pencil in her fist, and in horrible sprawl writes “Burger.”

SNIFFING BOYSure!

WAITERGood cuz its all we got. Order up!

She rings a bell and slides the paper into the order ready window. A BEAR OF A MAN wearing a cook's hat appears in the ordering window. He has a giant burn across his face.

8.

BEAR OF A MANAHHHGGG!

He crumples the order in his fist and disappears into the kitchen.

SNIFFING BOYWho the hell was that?

WAITEROur cook.

SNIFFING BOYHe’s terrifying.

WAITERHe’s a gentle soul.

SNIFFING BOYWho are you people?

WAITERGood question. Can’t tell you.

SNIFFING BOYYou want to keep your names a secret?

WAITERNo, I really can’t tell you. Just happens when you die. You lose your name. Something about forgetting your past.

SNIFFING BOYHow can you forget your name?

WAITERTry it out smart ass.

Waiter crosses her arms in challenge. He opens his mouth and nothing comes out. He tries again, and again silence.

She extends her hand to him weakly. He sees her gashes and hesitates before giving a tentative handshake.

WAITER (CONT’D)You can call me The Waiter, or Waiter. Whatever. Just don’t call me Banana.

9.

(MORE)

Next to you is our very own Trainman. Over there with the newspaper is the Swinger. In the back is Cupcake Bear.

Smirking, she points to his folder. He hands it to her. She takes out a stapled mess of papers from it.

WAITER (CONT’D)Hello, and welcome to your first day in the afterlife! May it be as fun filled as your life was. Fun filled. Yeah, they haven’t changed this stuff since I died.

A small film reel falls from the folder.

WAITER (CONT’D)Ooh! A picture! Mr. Swings! Get the lights.

SWINGERGet ‘em yourself, I’m reading.

WAITERThat papers older than me, just get the damned lights.

Swinger gets up annoyed and lowers the lights as Waiter puts the film in the jukebox. It warms up.

SNIFFING BOYUm, miss... That’s a jukebox.

WAITERSo? And don’t call me miss.

SNIFFING BOYSorry. Well, I thought jukeboxes play music not...

The jukebox projects a light to the back of the stage, showing a black and white grainy movie.

The sound of thunderous trumpets announces the coming of a very informative training video. The opening has a logo with Day of the Dead skull with two scythes crossed behind it. Under it in fancy cursive is the words “Rigamortis and Firm, we love you to death.”

10.

WAITER (CONT’D)