A Sketch by Jean-Pierre Martinez
The first character stares fixedly towards the audience. The second one enters, seeming to be searching for his way.
Two – Excuse me. Do you know where Jim Morrison’s grave is…?
One (coming out of his meditation) – No idea.
Two – Last time I came here was for the funeral, but I was so stoned I don’t remember a thing. I don’t remember anything… Did you know him?
One – Morrison?
Two – No… The… The guy they’re burying, there… There are a lot of people. Was he someone important?
One – A philosopher… who also wrote plays.
Two – He was an enlightened thinker, a generous teacher, a loyal friend… Blah blah… He probably wrote nothing but incomprehensible stuff, messed around with his students, and owed money to everyone… Assholes die too, right? Usually later than everyone else, actually. But they end up croaking anyway. So where do we bury them, huh? Look at the epitaphs around you. To my dear husband… To our beloved father… To our beloved boss… And what about the guys who cheated on their wives, beat their children, and exploited their workers, where do we bury them? I don’t know why we feel the need to sanctify idiots once they’re dead.
One – Perhaps it’s the gratitude of the living for finally being rid of them, I suppose…
Two – In any case, just for that, it would be worth attending your own funeral. Just to hear all those people who couldn’t stand you say how wonderful you were…
The other looks at him, intrigued.
Two – Oh, bloody hell. The minute of silence now… They’re really pulling out all the stops. (Silence) Writing plays by a philosopher must be boring, right?
The first one looks slightly offended. The second one wonders if he made a mistake.
Two – Did you know this… playwright?
One – I also didn’t want to miss my funeral… (Extending his hand to the other to introduce himself) Jean-Paul…
Two (shaking his hand) – Jim…
One – I wouldn’t have recognized you. You had long hair back then, right…?
Two – And you, didn’t you have a slight squint…?
One – Only in one eye. (Amused) But now, I’m just an essence…
Two (taking out a cigarette) – Come on, baby, light my fire.
The first one, who doesn’t seem to understand the joke, lights the other’s cigarette.
One – Sorry, I never listened to your records…
Two – I haven’t read your books either… Existentialism, isn’t it?
One – Yeah…
Two (ironically) – To be or not to be…
The other isn’t sure if Jim is teasing him or not.
One – No, that’s not mine, unfortunately… Are you sure Morrison is buried at Montparnasse Cemetery?
Two – No?
One – I would say it’s more likely to be Père Lachaise…
Two – Oh, bloody hell, I don’t remember anything. I must have been really high… I’ll regret it for the rest of my life for missing my own funeral…
Black.
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A sketch from the collection Stories to die for
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)
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https://jeanpierremartinez.net