Act II, Scene 7: Death at the Appointed Time

A Letter from Jeff to the People
July 28, 2007
The Dull Sundry, 500
July 29, 2007

You’ll be curious to know…
What?! What is it?
I think I lost it. I had it. I did.
Where was it last?
I hardly think about these things.
Where was it last?!
Next to the evisceration of Wallace.
Gross. Have you looked behind all that?
No. There’s hardly any room.
Well look, would you? It’s important.
There’s a bit about Mormons. No more ties.
I don’t think that’s what we’re after.
Wait! No. That’s Nelson Mandela’s prison talk.
Are you even close?
It’s hard to tell. We’ve been re-organizing.
Is it alphabetical?
Used to be. But Cyrillic doesn’t fit well with Times New Roman.
Should you get back to me on this?
No, no, I’m sure it’s here somewhere. You’ll just have to feign surprise when I find it.
I can manage that. Is it monumental at least? Or just a pep talk?
I didn’t read it over ahead of time. I just got back from Palestine. No time, really.
Well, I’m going to get a cranberry sunrise. Want anything?
No, I’m fine. And make it a Shirley Temple, would you? You should have most of your faculties operational for this.
Wait! Here it is!
I’ll hold on the drink. Surprised?
Yes, act surprised—coming of God type stuff.
Right. … Ok. Make it dramatic, alright? That’ll help.
Give me a break! This is my job.
Ok, ok. I’m ready when you are.
Ahem. The Lord your God is delighted in the work you have done for his many children—
Kind of archaic, isn’t it?
Just shut up and let me finish, will you?
He wills you to return home now. So let it be done.
Home? It’s 9 o’clock.
I don’t think He’s talking about your apartment.
You mean—?
Yeah. … Huh. That was… not what I was expecting.
So I die now?
I guess.
How does that work? Do you kill me?
Nah, it’s never worked that way before. Usually they just fall over. Heart attacks are popular “will of God” life-enders.
I’ve got a good heart.
Yeah, well, the Lord your God says otherwise. In fact, you should have croaked by now.
Can we at least do this somewhere private? I don’t want to die in front of all these people.
You’re ending your life on earth and you’re worried that people will judge the tact of your sudden death?
It’s not tact I’m worried about. I have five birthday shots to drink yet.
Among others.
That was always my favorite. Stop distracting me!
Ok, ok. The will of God be done, etc. etc. Shouldn’t I be ascending to heaven by now?
In theory. Maybe I did something wrong. I wonder if I read the wrong edict.
You’re kidding me with this.
I wish I could say I was.
Oh my God.
Nowhere. That guy just collapsed over there.
Ah, shit. What’s his name? Do you know him?
I’ve seen him around. Jonathan, I think?
Ahh dammit! I knew I would screw this up! That’s what happens when you come back from trying to persuade Palestinians to eat falafel.
Uh, why were you—
Peace mission. Don’t ask. It was complicated.
So do I die, or what?
No, I don’t think so. Dammit. I knew the name started with a “J.”
My name is Mark.
Mark, eh? Mark… Mark… Mark… Oh!
I remember now. The Lord says you should stop swapping shots with people at the bar. It’s throwing off his divine plan.
It’s all in good fun. I only swapped drinks with Jonathan over there.
You’re kidding, right?
No. It was all in good fun.
I think the drink killed him. I remember something about a tragic allergy to cranberries.
Oh. Shit.

So I was supposed to die?
… well what now?
Can you hold on that? I have to talk to Michael. This is really a mess.
…should I stay here?
Umm. Yes. And don’t drink. We don’t want you dying at the unappointed time.
Of course not. … So I’ll await my untimely death on the middle of dance floor in a gay club with an empty glass in my hand.
Sounds good. I won’t be long. Hopefully.
Can I dance?
Not at all. We can’t all have that gift.

Just look … calm.
I’m going to die.
Maybe. I’m not sure about that.
Well hurry up and verify. I’ll give you five minutes, then I’m getting a last drink.
Yeah, yeah, I’m hurrying… uh, mind if you get me one of those vodka cranberries before I go?
You owe me.
You’re not really in a position to make demands.
Are you kidding? If this goes through, I’m going to ask for a refund on my death.
Good luck with customer service.
Why? Who’s in charge of that?

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