Angels at Sundown

CURTIS lies in bed with a figure that is currently blocked from the audience by his obese body frame. The bed is positioned from it’s side facing the audience. Honey and jam are both poured across the floor along with shredded newspaper. Curtis sits up, facing the figure next to him.

CURTIS: I enjoyed this. It’s fun to have someone I can tell my fantasies to.


CURTIS: Ever since I rid myself of that bitch, Mary I’ve been so much happier with you, dearest. Sadly, I must go to work now.

Curtis leaves the bed in nothing but his underwear. He makes his way over to the coat rack to take his hat. The figure is revealed to be a broken down female mannequin; coated in dirt and wearing a paper cutout of King Charles II’s face.

CURTIS: No, don’t say that. I did everything for you – those children at church, the shrew in my cupboard, ALL of that was for our future together. You can’t just screech those scurrilous words at me like a virulent harpy!


CURTIS: Really? You’re going to give me that lecture AGAIN!? Well I n-


CURTIS: I’m sorry, I’ll think next time. How about we make up?

CURTIS flamboyantly skips over to the bed and attempts to give the mannequin a peck on the cheek. Suddenly a loud buzzing sound blasts through the speakers in the corner. CURTIS is terrified. A booming female voice is heard on the speaker above them.

VOICE: I believe your time is up.

CURTIS: Please, just a little while longer. It needs my –

VOICE: All in good time, Scorpio.

CURTIS: Please don’t call me that again.

VOICE: Know your place, Scorpio.

CURTIS leaves the room with just his hat and his underwear. The same buzzing sound is heard again.

VOICE: Number 17, your time starts now.

A Middle aged man dressed in business attire timidly enters the room. He is holding a ticket with the number 17 written on it. He puts down his briefcase.

NUMBER 17: Oh, hello. You like my blazer? Thank you, I think we’ll like each other after all.


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