.

5 – Definition of love (through what it is not)

Him – How long have we known each other ? Twenty years, at least ? (Silence) Why didn’t we ever sleep together, by the way ? We get along well, don’t we…? We could even have married ! It’s weird, I see you a bit like an ex. Though we never went out together… We almost did once, remember ? You forced me to drink. Or perhaps it was the contrary. We ended up at your place, completely drunk. We laughed our heads off all night long, but we forgot to sleep together. Maybe because we get along too well, precisely. It wouldn’t be spicy enough. We would get bored, in the end. It’s true, we laugh a lot together, but… I can’t imagine making love to a girl who is laughing. Well, there are different kinds of laughter. I can make a girl laugh to sleep with her. But sleeping with a girl who makes me laugh…! No, if I slept with you, I would feel like I was sleeping with a buddy. I mean a girl, but… Besides, I don’t like blondes. I know, you are not blonde. But you were when I met you… I didn’t know that it wasn’t your natural colour ! Doesn’t hang on much, does it? It is not that I don’t like blondes, but… It depends. It must have been the colour. You were too blond for me. Girls who are too blond, I don’t know, it puts me off. Physically. I don’t know why… It must be something to do with the skin-type. And now it’s too late. I will always think of you as a blonde who dyed her hair to become a brunette. Besides your are not really dark-haired… It is not light-brown, either. I don’t know how to call it… It’s neither blonde nor dark. It’s not that I don’t think you are sexy, right ? Anyway, all the guys think you are sexy. Usually, it’s rather motivating. But in this case… Really, I can’t think exactly why I never felt like sleeping with you… Is that what we call love ? I mean, the «je ne sais quoi» that makes us feel like fucking together, or more if inclined. We figured out what it is, can you believe it ! Through what it is not… Now, why did I marry my wife rather than you or another one ? Well, she liked me. It was easier. If she hadn’t liked me right from the beginning, would I have held onto her…? And if I had held onto her, would she have liked it…? We will never know. Mutual love is easier, of course, but it’s not so… How can I say…? Conquering without a battle makes the triumph modest. Besides, I wonder what she liked in me ? Have you got any idea… ? I could ask her, of course, but… If she asks me back… Sometimes, there are matters that are best left alone. A bit of mystery in the couple can’t hurt. Well, within reason. Once I went out with a girl. After a year or so, she ditched me. I asked her why. She told me that she was bored stiff in bed with me. A whole year ! Isn’t that taking discretion a bit too far… Now why did she go out with me for a year ? It didn’t even occur to me to ask… There must have been a reason ! Unless she lied. About my sexual performances, I mean… As a form of revenge… I’m not saying that because it hurts my male pride, right ? It just surprised me a little, that’s all. It’s true, I am a reputedly good lay. What about you ? No, I mean, really, don’t you want to tell why you never fancied going out with me ? (Worried) You don’t have to answer that, hey ?

And meeting again

She arrives, with a big smile on her face.

Her (pleased) – Do you recognise me ?

Him (turning to her, embarrassed) – No…

Her (knowingly) – It was years ago, but still…

Him – Oh, yes, maybe…

Her (offended) – Maybe ?

Him – I mean, of course, I remember now… How are things going ?

Her – Not too bad… What are you doing here ?

Him – Well, nothing. What about you ?

Her (upset) – Did I change that much ?

Him – Oh, no ! Absolutely. Why ?

Her – You didn’t seem to recognise me a while ago.

Him – Sorry, it is just that I didn’t expect to see you again, that’s all.

Her – Anyway, you didn’t change, I can tell you.

Him – Thank you…

Her – So, what’s up ?

Him – You know, same old things…

Her – Still very talkative, hey ?

He doesn’t know what to say.

Her – Did you come back a long time ago ?

Him – From where…?

Her – Well… From there !

Him – Oh, yes… I mean, not really.

They stupidly smile, embarrassed.

Her (moved) – I’m very pleased to see you again.

Him – Me too…

Her (knowingly) – I have to go, now. Someone is waiting for me…

She hesitates for a while.

Her – We’re not going to shake hands are we ?

Him – Okay…

Taking him by surprise, she French kisses him.

Her (pathetic) – We might meet again some other time…

Him (upset) – Maybe, yes…

Her – Well… So long Paul !

She lets go of him, with tears in her eyes.

Him – So long.

She leaves, turning around one last time. They wave good-bye from afar. He remains alone.

Him (taken aback) – Paul ?

4 – Quarantine

She is sitting on the couch. He arrives.

Him – It’s incredible. I just received another call from a friend of mine inviting me to celebrate his fortieth birthday. Unbelievable, isn’t it ?

Her – If you all were twenty at the same time, it is not so strange that twenty years later you could be forty more or less at the same time…

Him – I mean, what’s crazy is that I had no news from all this people for years… And all of a sudden, the phone doesn’t stop ringing !

Silence.

Her – Are you planning to go ?

Him – It scares me a little. They might have changed, it’s been a long time.

Her – Physically, you mean ?

Him – Physically, mentally… I hope they’re not too dishevelled.

Her (simpering) – What about me ? Are you sure I am not too dishevelled ?

Him – It’s different with you, I see you every day, you age little by little. But them, all of a sudden… It’ll be like The Return of The Living Dead… It’s weird, isn’t it, this sudden need to get together when people get close to their fortieth birthday…

Her – It’s called a birthday party, isn’t it ?

Him – They say that animals move closer to humans when they feel that the end is coming. It must be something like that. A kind of herd instinct. What could I possibly offer him ?

Her – A funeral contract…?

Him – It’s expensive, isn’t it ?

Her – I’m joking… What about you ?

Him – Yes, sure.

Her – No, I mean : Do you plan to do something about your fortieth anniversary ?

Him – What do you want me to do ? Any idea to preventing it ? Anyway, please, don’t organise a surprise party, okay…? If I haven’t seen all these people for years, there must be a very good reason.

Silence.

Him – How old are you, exactly ?

She looks at him, shocked, but does not answer.

Her – We should invite the neighbours for dinner one day.

Him – What for ?

Her – For nothing !

Him – They never invited us.

Her – Maybe they didn’t dare…

Silence.

Him – Just because we’re neighbours, it doesn’t mean that we need to be friends…

Her – The only friends we have live three hundred miles from here ! It could be nice to have friends next door…

Him – Well… From a practical point of view… It would cut travelling expenses. And hence reduce pollution. One could almost say that it is ecological to make friends with one’s neighbours.

Silence.

Him – What does he do, exactly ?

Her – I don’t know. Every morning, I see him leave home with a briefcase. Who knows where he goes. I’ll ask him next time, if you like…

Him – What about her ?

Her – They’re very discreet…

Him – Sounds like this dinner will be fun. If we don’t want to be intrusive…

Her – You’ll can always talk about yourself.

Him – They’ve got children, haven’t they ?

Her – Every day, three of them leave the house to go to school. I suppose they are theirs.

Him – Oh yes… A little, a medium and a big one… (Worried) Do we have to invite them too ?

Her – Oh, no ! I’ll specify that it’s a strictly adult evening. That way there’s no ambiguity.

Him – You were speaking about the neighbours in front, right ?

Her – The side neighbours ! The ones in front moved six months ago, after their divorce. Didn’t you see the sign « For Sale » ?

Him – No.

Her – And anyway, they didn’t have any children.

Him – Really…?

Silence.

Her – It wouldn’t be cleaning day, by any chance ?

Him – I’m afraid it is. (With a sigh) Housework is the foundation of the couple…

Her – That’s probably why a couple is called a household.

Him – And a triangle a « ménage à trois ».

She looks at him, surprised.

Him – Ménage means household, in French… When a man lives with two housewives…

Her – Three, in a house, can also be a couple with a child…

Him – Everyone has his own fantasies.

Silence.

Her – So ?

Him – You really think that now is the right time to have a baby ?

Her – It’s not a question of money, and you know it… Besides, we’re not so poor…

Him – We will be with a bunch of kids…! Look what happens in Africa, with the galloping population growth… I read a book years ago : «Black Africa Had A Bad Start». Well, it hasn’t got any better ever since… Today, nobody seriously thinks that Africa is in motion… Apart from the continental drift… The more babies people have, the poorer they are…

Her – Are you sure it is not the other way around ?

Him – Anyway, if poor people don’t have any children, the next generation, everybody would be rich… Look at the Chinese. They’re not allowed to have more than one baby, and they’re already much better off…

Her – Then, let’s start with one…

Him – When would we take care of this kid ? We don’t even have the time to sweep the floor !

Her – We would hire a cleaner.

Him – But we don’t have any room for this child !

Her – You could set up your office in the basement…

Him – That’s what I call a bad start… What about you ? Are you planning to stop working ?

Her – We’ll hire a nanny.

Him – In addition to the cleaner ? That’s no longer a « ménage à trois », it’s a small business ! I’m not sure I’m that entrepreneurial…

Silence.

Him – We won’t be able to go out in the evening anymore.

Her – We’ll hire a baby-sitter.

Him – I never realised just how much of a direct effect population growth has on employment.

Her – And consumerism…

Him – Diapers, baby-food, toys, medical care…

She – New car…

Him – Finally, you’re right. This baby will bring an end to the economic crisis…

3 – TV breakdown

A couple sitting on a couch, staring into space.

Her – Anything interesting on TV tonight ?

Him – I don’t know. Why ?

Her – Just like that… (After a while) You really don’t want us to buy another one ?

Him – When we had a TV, we couldn’t help watching it !

Her – That’s why a TV is made for, isn’t it ?

Him – We were totally moronic with the TV ! We didn’t do anything else !

They keep staring into space. Not doing anything.

Her (ironical) – What shall we do now ?

Him – What do you want us to do ?

Her – Nothing…

Him – It’s still better than watching TV… When there was only one channel, at least… But now, with the satellite…

Her (nostalgic) – When I was a child, we had no TV. I used to go watch it to at my neighbour’s…

Him (ironical) – You want me to ask the neighbour if you can go watch TV with him ?

Silence.

Her – We could talk.

He looks at her, upset.

Her – Since we no longer have TV, we could use the time to talk.

Him – Well… You first.

She tries to think about something.

Her – Do you love me ?

Him (shocked) – Could we do this… progressively.

He thinks about it.

Him – What do we have for dinner, tonight ?

Her – Wednesday, fish.

Him – Fish ? It should be Friday…

Her – Friday is chicken.

Him – A bit fishy, isn’t it…?

Silence.

Him – What kind of fish do you want ?

Her – I’ll go. I need to get custard, too… What about cod, for a change…?

Him – It’s a bit salty, isn’t it ?

Her – Not à la Française.

Him – That doesn’t involve custard does it ?

Silence.

Him – If ever you cheated on me, would you tell me ?

She looks at him, surprised.

Her – You mean : if you cheated on me, would I want you to tell me or not ?

Him – Also, yes…

Her – Why do you ask ?

Him – Just making conversation… Since we don’t have TV anymore.

She thinks about it.

Her – How do you want me to answer this ?

Him – Yes or no !

Her – Do you really think it’s that simple ?

Him – No ?

Her – Answering is already accepting the possibility that you could cheat on me.

Him – So ?

Her – It’s like if you asked me : if I murdered you, would you prefer me to go surrender to the police right after, or try to escape from justice ?

He doesn’t seem to understand.

Her – It supposes that I actually consider the possibility that you could murder me. That is the real question. The rest is irrelevant.

Him – But still, adultery isn’t a crime.

Her – It sometimes leads to crime…

He seems a little worried.

Him – If I cheated on you, you could kill me ?

Her – Anyway, if I did, I would most certainly surrender to the police. Justice has always been very lenient towards crimes of passion…

Silence.

Her – So, you actually consider the possibility of cheating on me.

Him – Ninety-five per cent of animals are polygamists. The rest form couples only for as long as it takes to raise their offspring. Proof that fidelity is not a natural thing…

Her – We are not animals. At least, women are not…

Him – There are still five per cent of monogamists among the animals ! It doesn’t make humans out of them. Why would fidelity be a criterion of humanity ?

Her – It is the foundation of the family, which is the foundation of society…

Him – So you won’t cheat on me solely to remain a good citizen ?

Silence.

Her – Is it that difficult for you to stay faithful to me ?

Him – No… I was just wondering if fidelity had the same meaning for men and women.

Her – So ? Why are men faithful, in your opinion ? When they are, of course…

He thinks about it.

Him – To avoid complications…?

Silence.

Him – Perhaps we should buy another TV.

2 – Cherry time

A couple, sitting on a couch.

Her – Did you see ? The cherry tree is in flower.

Him – Another year has past…

Silence.

Her – We’re happy, aren’t we…?

Him – Yes… (After a moment) We’re bored stiff, aren’t we ?

Her – Together ?

Him – Generally.

She thinks about it.

Her – We could buy another couch…

Him – What would we do with the old one ?

Her – Take a vacation…

Him – To go where ?

Her – Organise a party…

Him – To celebrate what ?

Her – The flowering of our cherry tree !

Him – They say that Japanese people do that, in spring. Invite friends round to contemplate their cherry tree, sipping tea…

Her – We should better hurry up. Some petals are already falling…

Him – So is some of my hair…

Her – Your hair ?

Him – It starts by one, and then you go bald before you know it… (After a moment)And who would we invite ?

Her – Friends !

Him – Friends…? We’ve got friends…?

Her – Probably…

Him – Anyway, people are always busy…

Her – You just need to give them notice.

Him – You invite them for a drink, they get out their diary… Instead of having a drink, you discuss about a possible date. Then they call you back to cancel and fix a new date… When I go for a drink, it’s right on the spot. In three weeks, I might not be thirsty anymore. There is no more improvisation !

Her – Maybe because people are afraid of being bored…

Him – You’ll see ! They will be busy. They will discuss a possible date. Meanwhile, the cherry tree’s petals will have fallen down…

Her – A carpet of petals is pretty too…

Him – Today it is sunny. But what the weather will be like in a month ? In addition to matching agendas, you have to consult the weather report. Inviting friends becomes even more complicated than foreseeing an eclipse. No… Instead of taking a chance on having fun with all this people in a month, I’d rather the guarantee of being bored with you right now.

Her – That’s so sweet…

Him – A few days ago, my best friend leaves me a message. I had not heard of him for months. I call him back right away to invite him for a drink. He tells me that he is busy, that he will call me to fix a date. I am still waiting. I never knew why he called me in the first place…

Her – Maybe he felt a little down…

Him – I don’t know if he did not feel so lonely after he called… In six months, he will probably call me again, and it will be the same. Is that what we call friends, now ? The same with the web ? They tell you that it is «friendly». You don’t even say hello to the guy next door, but with your computer, you will be able to chat with the Chinese in Esperanto. Do you know many Chinese people ?

Her – When I was a child, I used to communicate with my little neighbour by night, in Morse, with electric lamps. Even then it didn’t work very well…

Him – People are overbooked all the time. What can they possibly have so interesting to do, not to have a single moment to drink a coffee with their best friend without notice. I try to stay available. But nobody else ever is. So I get bored… You never get bored ?

Her – With you, never…

Silence.

Him – What about having this drink anyway ?

Her – The two of us ?

Him – Would you be available ?

Her – When ?

Him – Right now.

Her – Why not ?

Him – I’ll get the glasses.

Her – I’ll take care of the peanuts.

Somebody rings the bell.

Him – Are we expecting somebody ?

Her – No. Who can that be ? It’s almost dinner time.

Him – People are so bad-mannered. They won’t leave you alone, even at the week-end.

Her – I’ll go to see who it is…

Him – I’m not here for anyone.

She turns to him.

Her – And what if it’s a friend ?

He thinks about it.

Him – Tell him that our Japanese cherry tree is still in flower, and that he should come back when it has cherries…

1 – Wedding night

Him and her fall down on a couch, obviously exhausted.

Her – I thought they would never leave…

Him – They say that seven out of ten couples don’t have sex during their wedding night. Now I understand why…

Her – We could try to improve the average…

Him – You forget that we take off at 6.45 AM… From Luton…

Her – From Luton ?

Him – I told you ! I got the tickets on ebay…

Him – Why do the low cost companies have to take off from the most depressing town in England…? On the other hand, it’s true that when you leave from Luton, it makes anywhere look like a dream destination. Even Bratislava…

Him – They say that Bratislava is very beautiful… In spring…

Her – Don’t you mean Prague…?

Him – Similar region ?

Her – The Seychelles are beautiful all year round.. And don’t forget that spring starts only in two months…

Him – Oh, The Seychelles… Everybody goes there…

Her – It’s true that a honeymoon to Bratislava is a lot more original… We won’t meet lots of honeymooners on the plane… The only couple who mixed up Bratislava with Brasilia resold their tickets on ebay…

Him – We will treat ourselves with the Seychelles in a few years… For our wedding anniversary…

Her – Yeah. Our silver anniversary… When I won’t be able to get into my swimsuit…(Sigh) Life is unfair. We should inherit at 20, start working at 50 when we’ve finished our retirement, and procreate at 70, to have some company in our old age… And marriage would be at the end, a final vow…

Him – On the other hand, a lifetime without a mother in law… Is it really worth it…?

Her – Do you think I will still love you in 20 years ?

Him – Will you still have the choice…? When you can’t find a swimsuit that fits…

Her – I know a girl who said « no » on her wedding day, for a joke. She wanted to say « yes » immediately after but the mayor did not like the joke at all. She had to wait six months to get married for real…Turns out there’s a legal delay. Like for a driving licence. When you screw up, you can’t take it again right away. Did you know that ?

Him – No…

Her – This wedding was as boring as hell, wasn’t it ?

Him – People don’t marry just for the fun…

Her – Don’t tell me that they do it to go to Bratislava from Luton in the middle of the night. Or I’ll start asking myself why I said yes… What country is Bratislava in ?

Him – Well… Prague was the capital of Tchecoslovaquia…

Her – Then you don’t even know which country you’re taking me to for our honeymoon ! My mother was right : I really don’t know were I am going with you…

Him – Wait… Prague is now capital of Tchequia… Bratislava should be capital of Slovakia. Or Slovenia… Anyway, it’s in Europe ! We don’t even need a passport…

Her – And you, will you still love me in 20 years…?

Him – How could I not love my whole life long a girl who is ready to follow me to an unknown country of the EEC…?

She – If it’s a test then…

They kiss each other.

Him – I don’t want to hurry you, but our plane takes off in two hours. And it’s quite a long way to Luton…

Artists Entrance

Dark. As if the show is about to start. However nothing happens long enough for the public to become unsettled. The light appears in a corner where two spectators, a man and a woman – strangers – are sitting side by side. The man looks nervously at a cinema/theatre guide, and then at his watch. The woman picks pop corn out of a huge bag, noisily stuffing handful after handful into her mouth.

Him – Sorry… Do you know what’s going on ?

Her – I guess we are waiting for the actors…

Him – Until now, only the audience were late for shows. If actors start doing the same…

Silence.

Her (worried) – Can I have a look at your guide ? In case the play has been cancelled…

He gives her his guide. But she doesn’t know how to take it, with her pot of pop corn in her hands.

Her (showing him the bag of popcorn) – Do you want some ?

He has no choice but to take the bag. She looks at the guide, but seems to be lost in it. He eats some pop corn with disgust.

Her – Sorry, I’m used to Time Out. I can’t find anything…

Him – And I don’t like pop corn…

She gives him back his guide, and takes back her pop corn.

Her – Anyway, it’s too late for a movie… We’re better off to waiting.

Him – I hope it’s worth it…

Her (worried) – Bad critics ?

Him (looking towards the public) – There aren’t many people…

Her – Well, the critics… They don’t mean much.. Sometimes, you see things, glorified by the critics. It lasts hours… but no one dares say they’re bored, for fear they sound like an idiot. Afterwards, they’ll tell you :  » That play was so deep, the proof : you didn’t understand a word of it… »

Him – Comedy is a different kettle of fish. If people don’t laugh during the show, they won’t tell you after : « Only a critic can understand how hysterically funny it is ».

Her – Are you a critic ?

Him (astonished) – Not you ?

Her – Actress…

Him – Of course…

Her – Only actors and critics go to the theatre nowadays… One in two spectators is an actor. It’s hard to tell where the stage is these days…

Him – You know the play ?

Her – Oh, no… But a friend of mine is performing in it. I came to see her… To do her a favour…

Him – Is she a famous actress…?

Her – She mostly does theatre…

Him – In that case… (Suspicious) You really are an actress?

Her (worried) – You don’t think I’m a good one ?

Him – Oh, no… You are very good.

Her – Actress by night and… museum attendant during the day.

Him – If you consider the modernity of the repertoire, it’s more or less the same job, isn’t it…?

Silence.

Her – I have no more pop corn.

Him – We might die before the show starts.

Her – Yes… It seems that they have forgotten us…

Him – In a few years, a cleaner will find our skeletons lying side by side, hand in hand…

Her – Hand in hand…?

Him – I think as the end grows near, we’ll become more affectionate towards each-other. We are like two shipwrecked souls on a desert island, aren’t we ? We don’t have much choice…

Her – You think they will give us our money back ?

Him (astonished) – Don’t tell me that you paid for this…

Her – Of course, not…

Him – Then…

They stand up in order to leave.

Him – We can always come back another time…

Her – If the play is still on. Which seems very unlikely…

Him – We could go to see another one.

Her – Is that an invitation…?

Him (showing an invitation) – For two.

Her – I hope that this time, it will start on time… What is it ?

Him (reading the invitation) – Him and her…

Her – Looks boring too…

Him – Sorry, I have to turn my mobile on…

Her – Oh, yes… I forgot to switch mine off…

They leave. Lights down.

Por fin

Dos mujeres están sentadas, una a cada lado de la mesa, cada una con un texto anillado.

1 (Con aire afligido) – Hemos hecho bien al no invitar al autor, ¿verdad? Todavía queda mucho por hacer.

2 (Con mirada de inteligencia) – Oh la lá.

1 – Su primera obra era muy buena, sin embargo… Muy divertida. No lo entiendo.
2 – Escribir la segunda es siempre más difícil. Lo sabe todo el mundo.

1 – Mmm…

La primera empieza a hojear el texto y lee para sí con expresión siniestra. La segunda lee también pero de través, mirando a la otra por encima del hombro e intentando pasar las páginas a la vez que ella. La primera se interrumpe para ponerla de testigo 

1 – Mire, vamos por la página 3 y no se ha reído ni una sola vez.
La segunda asiente con expresión abrumada.
2 (Con una sonrisa comercial) – ¿Le apetece un café?

La otra ni siquiera se molesta en decir que no y sigue leyendo y pasando páginas. De repente se detiene en una réplica y empieza a desternillarse de risa

1 – Esto si que es bueno, ¡graciosísimo!

Sigue riendo aún más fuerte bajo la mirada de la segunda que no sabe por qué página va, y que trata de averiguarlo más o menos discretamente acechando el texto que tiene enfrente.

1 (Viendo que la otra sigue sin troncharse) – ¿No lo encuentra gracioso usted?
Con gran alivio, la segunda acaba de encontrar la réplica en cuestión.

2 – Sí, claro que sí… (Esforzándose por reír pero con la risita falsa que no acaba de arrancar) Es muy bueno verdaderamente. Aquí es donde se ve y se nota el pulso de su primera obra.

La priemra vuelve a ponerse seria y de nuevo vuelve a pasar páginas a medida que avanza en la lectura

Dos (Enardeciéndose) -Ah, esto tampoco está nada mal. 

Se escacha de risa con toda sinceridad, sin tapujos, como que no puede parar de reír. Hasta que se da cuenta del aire consternado con que la mira la otra. 

1 – ¿Lo encuentra usted gracioso?

2 – Bueno, es verdad que no resulta muy elegante, pero…

1 – Ah, bueno, porque ya empezaba a preocuparme un poquitín… Personalmente no soporto esa clase de humor

2 – Hay que reconocer que resulta un tanto pesado Nos había acostumbrado a otro tipo de humor, algo más… Eso seguro.

Las dos mujeres siguen pasando páginas conforme a su ritmo de lectura. De repente se paran las dos en la misma y empiezan a sacudirse bajo el impulso de una risa pesada que crece en intensidad. Durante un buen rato ambas ríen juntas hasta las lágrimas. Poco a poco, La primera se empieza a calmar, seguida de la otra. 

1 – No, confieso que es realmente bueno… (Retoma su aire siniestro) Por lo menos nos ha hecho reír porque… (Con aire de preocupación) ¿Cree usted que esto va a hacer reír a un público de verdad?

2 – No es seguro.

1 – Mmm…

2 – A lo mejor resulta un tanto desfasado.

1 – No, haría falta algo todavía más impertinente pero un poco más como si dijéramos…

2 – Políticamente correcto

1 – Mmm…

La primera parece reflexionar en profundidad mientras la otra la observa poniendo cierta distancia, dudando si intervenir

1 – Se me ha ocurrido algo…

2 – Si…

1 – ¿No sería más gracioso para la gente si el prota fuera un negro?

2 – Un negro…

1 – ¿Sabe cómo son por ejemplo los dominicanos?

2 – Claro, mi compadre es dominicano

1 – Este descuido, esta animalidad (Tronchándose viva) Este acento para partirse… Es gracioso el acento antillano. Eso puede hacer reír al gran público. Y con la crisis, la gente tiene ganas de reír, por Dios!

2 – Claro. De pasar un buen rato y no darle más vueltas a la cabeza

1 – Yo digo que un dominicano o nada. ¿Le pega eso al autor?

2 – No hay problema, es cosa mía. ¿Sigue sin querer el café?

1 – Creo que por fin tenemos algo.

2 – Que cambia completamente el punto de vista de la obra.

1 – Estoy segura de que vamos a montar el chiringuito. Qué pasa, a veces tampoco es para tanto. Sólo falta encontrarle…

2 – Cuestión de oficio, como diría uno que yo me sé.

1 – ¿Se acuerda de su primera obra?

2 – Aquella donde cuenta la muerte de su padre.

1 – Si yo no hubiera insistido en que ocurriera en la edad de las cavernas…

2 – Y en que el protagonista fuera andaluz.

1 – Ay, sí, ya me quería yo acordar. Es verdad que el acento andaluz.

2 – Siempre resulta muy divertido.

1 – Vale…

Cierra el texto anillado y mira su reloj.

1 – Oh la lá… Tengo que irme, tengo cita con un latoso (palizas) que no hay manera de librarme de él. ¿Cómo ha llamado a eso, por cierto?

La otra mira el título de cubierta.

1 (leyendo incrédula) – Crónica de una vida laboriosa.

2 – Estaba segura de que no le iba a gustar a usted, pero he preferido no decir nada para no influirla. También a mí me parece un título muy inadecuado.

1 – Crónicas de una vida laboriosa… Y por qué no directamente crónicas laboriosas?

2 – Sí, es más corto.

1 – Bromeaba.

2 – Claro.

1 – No, hace falta algo con más gancho.

2 – Un título que invite a venir a la función.

Parece reflexionar profundamente

1 – ¿Por qué no Strip Poker? Es un  título con gancho, da ganas de venir al teatro. Bueno, depende depende de la distribución, claro…

2 – Sí, la verdad es que tiene gancho, pero…

1 – ¿Que…?

2 – Es el título que usted le dio a su primera obra

1 – ¿Qué obra?

2 – En la que narra la muerte de su padre

1 – Ah…

De nuevo pensando.

1 – ¿Strip Poker dos?

La otra encuentra dificultad para aparentar entusiasmo

Une – Non… Il faudrait un truc plus… Un prénom, peut-être… Comme le héros est Martiniquais… Aimé, par exemple ?

1 – No, hombre… Haría falta algo más… Un nombre quizás… Como el prota es dominicano… Amado-Domingo, por ejemplo?

2 – ¿Por qué no?

1 – Es el apellido de un actor con el que tuve la desgracia de acostarme despues de haberle prometido hacer de él una vedette. Si yo le doy el papel principal, sería una forma de deshacerme de él, es un golpe bajo por demás.

2 – Ah…

1 – Ahora Amado-Domingo… Hay que reconocer que es un nombrecito de coña. ¿Cómo se llama su marido de usted?

2 – Amado-Domingo.

1 – Bueno, ya lo veremos, ¿verdad? A lo mejor, nos quedamos con Crónicas Laboriosas. Y con esto respetamos la voluntad del autor.

2 – E incluso las últimas voluntades.

1 – Ah, sí, ¿Por qué?

2 – ¿Pero no está usted enterada? La autora se ha suicidado esta noche.

1 – No me digas…

2 – Creo que nunca se repuso de la muerte de su padre.

1 – Por consiguiente, es su última obra.

2 – Tiene todas las probabilidades

1 – Creo que vamos a hecer negocio. Un autor muerto vende mejor que uno vivito y coleando.

2 – La desgracia de unos…

Comienzan a irse.

1 – Espero que los herederos no sean demasiado rompepelotas.

2 – Es una vieja, creo.

1 – Dicen que el pelo sigue creciendo después de muertos. ¿Lo sabía usted?

2 – No…

Oscuridad.

14 – Túnel

Dos hombres (o mujeres) de pié, uno al lado del otro, mirando al frente.

Uno – Pues ya está, se acabó.

Dos – Parece que sí…

Uno – ¿Crees que hay algo después ?

Dos – Vete a saber…

Uno – Francamente, no estoy muy convencido.

Dos – Ya veremos…

Uno – No estábamos tan mal aquí. No era el paraíso, pero bueno… No era el infierno tampoco.

Dos – Como dicen : A lo mejor, sabemos de dónde venimos, pero no dónde vamos a terminar.

Uno – Ya está, creo que veo algo.

Dos – Yo también…

Uno – Parece un túnel.

Dos – Con una luz deslumbrante al final.

Uno – Hasta ahora se parece mucho a lo que nos han contado.

Dos – A ver si es buena señal.

Uno – Es muy estrecho. Nunca vamos a poder pasar los dos…

Dos – Ve tú primero.

Uno – ¿Yo..? ¿Y por qué?

Dos – Sea lo que sea, no podemos quedarnos aquí…

Uno – Sí… Creo que pronto nos van a expulsar…

Dos – Bueno, yo voy…

Uno – Ya me contarás…

Dos – Espera un momento, estoy atascado… Ya está, veo la salida…

Uno – ¿Y qué…?

Dos – No me vas a creer …

Uno – ¿Qué ves?

Dos – Parece una habitación de hospital…

Uno – Entonces, ¿no estaríamos muertos de verdad ?

Dos – Peor…

Uno – ¿Cómo que peor?

Dos – No es realmente un hospital…

Uno – ¿Y entonces qué es?

Dos – Veo a un tío con una sonrisa estúpida que me está mirando mientras intento salir… Joder, ¡estamos en una maternidad!

Un – Por favor, no… No iremos a empezar todo de nuevo…

Dos – Dios mío… Es para llorar…

Llantos de un bebé al nacer.

Obscuro.

 13 – Fuera

Ella y él están sentados confortablemente. Él lee y ella hace punto, o al revés.

Ella – Sienta bien eso de poder estar por fin un poco tranquilos.

Él – Sí.

Ella – Con todo ese jaleo de fuera.

Él – Sí.

Ella – Se está mucho mejor en casa.

Él – Sí.

Ella – Ya ni siquiera me acuerdo de cuando fue…

Él – ¿El qué?

Ella – La última vez que salí yo por ahí.

Él – Ah, sí, salir.

Ella – ¿Y tú?

Él – ¿Yo?

Ella – ¿Cuándo fue?

Él – ¿La última vez que saliste?

Ella – La última vez que saliste tú.

Él – Ah, yo. salir… No sé… Eso debió de ser… Para sacar al perro.

Ella – ¿El perro? El perro está muerto.

Él – No me digas.

Ella – Ya hace años.

Él – Así decía yo… Se me hace que este perro no mea muy a menudo.

Ella – ¿Y?

Él – ¿Y qué?

Ella – Que cuándo saliste por última vez ¿Te acuerdas?

Él – ¿Yo? Ah, sí, Salir… Eso debió de ser… Para tirar la basura.

Ella – ¿La basura?

Él – ¿Porque no?

Ella – Tenemos tragabasuras.

Él – Ah, si, ya me decía yo… Este cubo no se llena nunca. Y el perro, dondé lo hemos enterrado?

Ella – En el jardín.

Él – Supongo que habré tenido que salir para enterrar al perro. El jardín está fuera, ¿no?

Ella – Va, déjalo.

Él – Sí…

Ella – ¿Sabes qué?

Él – ¿Qué de qué?

Ella – Te va a parecer raro pero no estoy segura de haber salido nunca en realidad. El perro se meaba en el césped. Antes de que lo enterráramos debajo, naturalmente.

Él – Mmmm… Yo tampoco. No, desde luego, que yo me acuerde. Porque me acordaría, ¿no?

Ella – Probable.

Él – De todas formas, ¿qué podríamos ir a hacer fuera?

Ella – Con lo tranquilito que se está aquí.

Suena un timbre. Los dos parecen muy sorprendidos

Ella – ¿Qué es?

Él – El timbre

Ella – A saber qué podrá ser…

Él – Voy a ver

Se va y vuelve en un momento.

Ella – ¿Y?

Él – El cartero

Ella – ¿Y qué ha dicho?

Él – Nada, ya se había ido. Pero dejó una carta.

Ella – Los carteros, es lo que suelen hacer. No me gustan las cartas, siempre tengo miedo de que sea una mala noticia. ¿Es una mala noticia?

Mira la carta.

Él – Es una partida de…

Ella – ¿De?

Él – De defunción

Ella – Ay, ¿sí?

Abre la carta.

Él – Señor y señora Domingez.

Ella – ¿Los dos?

Él – Aparentemente sí

Ella – ¿Los conocemos?

Él – Como que me suenan.

Se para un momento a pensar, luego saca su cartera y de ella su canet.

Él – Te vas a reír, pero el señor Domingez soy yo

Ella – Entonces yo soy la señora Domingez?

Él – Probable.

Ella – ¿Estamos casados?

Él mira de nuevo a la carta.

Él – Solo dicen que estamos muertos.

Ella – Habría que escribirles para hacerles ver que es un error.

Él – Sí.

Ella – Pero para eso habría que salir.

Él – No sé si me animaré.

Ella – Con lo bien que se está en casa.

Él – ¿Crees que será un error?

Ella hace señas como de no saber.

Vuelven ambos a sus respectivas tareas.

Oscuro.

12 – Muerto de la Risa

Un (o una) policía observa a un médico forense mientrás está examinando a un cadáver.

Policía – ¿Cuánto tiempo lleva muerto, doctor?

Médico – Todavía esta tibio. Yo diría dos o tres horas, como máximo.

Policía – La mujer de la limpieza ha sido la que ha encontrado el cuerpo, desplomado en su asiento.

Médico – Mmm…

Policía – ¿Ya tiene usted alguna idea de la causa de la muerte?

Médico – Los análisis tienen que confirmarlo, pero creo no equivocarme, comisario, afirmándole que este hombre se murió de la risa…

Policía – Es más bien inhabitual, en efecto.

Médico – Una risa profunda. Muy violenta. Los cigomáticos no lo aguantaron. No hace falta que se lo dibuje…

Policía – ¿Alguna idea de lo que pudo provocar esa carcajada fatal?

Médico – Usted ha dicho que lo han encontrado en su sillón. ¿Estaba en casa viendo la tele…?

Policía – No.

Médico – ¿En el cine?

Policía – En el teatro.

Médico – Aún más sorprendente. Habitualmente, cuando se encuentra a algún espectador desplomado en su asiento al final de una representación, está más bien durmiendo…

Policía – ¿Y está usted seguro de que este hombre no esta simplemente durmiendo, muy profundamente, como consecuencia de un aburrimiento igualmente profundo, como los que se pueden padecer en los teatros…?

Médico – ¿Confundir un coma teatral con una estado de muerte clínica? Usted me está tomando por un principiante, comisario. En vez de eso ¿por qué no me dice qué clase de obra fue a ver este pobre hombre?

Policía – Eso todavía está por investigar. Mis hombres están interrogando al director del teatro y examinando la Guia del Ocio para comprobar sus declaraciones… Pero ya hemos cursado una orden de detención contra el presunto autor de la obra por homicidio involuntario.

Médico – ¿Involuntario?

Policía – Es que pretende haber escrito una tragedia… Pero bueno, yo tampoco soy un principiante. Sé como hacer hablar a un sospechoso…

Médico – Tiene razón, comisario. No se puede dejar en libertad a semejantes individuos. Si uno ya no puede ir al teatro sin temer morirse de la risa…

Policía – Parece que todavía esta agitado con algunos sobresaltos. ¿Está usted realmente seguro de que está muerto?

Médico – Será por los nervios. Créame, comisario, este hombre está muerto y bien muerto.

Policía – ¿Usted cree que ha podido verse morir?

Médico – ¿Por qué ? ¿Quiere interrogarle?

El Policía parece algo sorprendido.

Médico – Lo decía en broma, no se preocupe… En mi oficio, si uno no se puede reir de vez en cuando… Más vale desdramatizar, se lo aseguro. Mire, el domingo pasado, tuve que hacerle la autopsia a un pobrecito que había muerto de aburrimiento…

Comisario – ¿En un teatro también?

Médico – Peor… En casa de su suegra. Fíjese… Uno puede evitar ir al teatro el domingo, pero a comer en casa de su suegra…

Comisario – No me diga… ¿Y usted piensa que en este caso, la autopsia podrá revelar otros detalles interesantes?

Médico – Por lo pronto, le puedo decir que este desgraciado no tuvo su última cena en casa de su suegra. A menos que sea china…

El otro parece no entender.

Médico – Encontré rollitos de primavera en su estómago.

Comisario – ¿Rollitos de primavera?

Médico – No hay la menor duda acerca de esto. Y luego se tomó un pato lacado con arroz cantonés.

Comisario – ¿Y de postre?

Médico – Sin postre. Pero eso no tendría que sorprenderle, comisario. Los postres, en los restaurantes chinos… No valen nada, ¿ verdad ?

Comisario – ¿Y usted piensa que el hecho de que comió en un restaurante chino podría tener alguna relación con su fallecimiento ?

Médico – Ninguna.

Comisario – Bueno…

El comisario se dispone a marcharse.

Comisasrio – Muerto de la risa… ¿Cómo voy a anunciar eso a su familia…?

Médico – Usted tampoco tiene un oficio fácil, comisario… Venga a cenar a mi casa, alguna noche… Me quedan dos botellas de Burdeos que están para morirse. Uno tiene que relajarse un poco de vez en cuando, ¿ verdad ?

Comisario – Muy amable, Doctor… Lo hablaré con mi esposa. (Echando un vistazo hacia el cadáver) Se lo aseguro, parece que todavía esté sacudido por la risa…

Médico – Son los nervios, ya le digo…

Oscuro.