A sketch by Jean-Pierre Martinez
A rather sophisticated woman sits alone at a table, staring at an empty cocktail glass. A man approaches.
Him – Hello, may I buy you a drink?
Her – Even two or three if you like.
Him – Well, I’m not sure I’ve got that much cash on me.
Her – Let’s start with one, then. What’s your name?
Him – Michael, but you can call me Mickey. And you?
Her – Mary. But you can call me whatever you like.
Him – Right… And what would you fancy, Mary?
Her – The same as before. A Bloody Mary.
Him – A cocktail… That’s a bit pricey, isn’t it? How much is it?
Her – I have no idea. (Gesturing to a man across the room) The gentleman over there bought it for me.
Him – Ah, I see…
She gives the man a flirtatious smile, then turns back to her new companion.
Her – So?
Him – Oh yes, excuse me… (He fumbles in his pockets.) I’m so used to getting turned down, I’m not even sure I’ve got enough. I spent my last bit of change on poison.
Her – You do look a bit desperate, but I’m not sure suicide’s the answer, you know.
Him – Oh, no, but… it’s not for me.
Her – You want to poison someone?
Him – Yes, well… No… It’s ant poison.
Her – I see… I could settle for a coffee… if that’s more in your budget.
Him – Actually, I don’t think I have any cash at all.
Her – Is this your tactic to get someone else to buy you a drink?
Him – Sometimes it works.
Her – Well, let’s say it’s your lucky day. What will you have?
Him – I’ll have the same as you.
Her – You’ve got expensive taste for someone who can’t afford to buy a woman a drink.
Him – I do come into money from time to time, you know. But in my line of work, there are highs and lows.
Her – And what line of work is that?
Him – I’m a hitman.
Her – I see… So right now, it’s a bit of a dead season.
Him – Exactly.
Her – And have you killed many people in your life?
Him – Quite a few.
Her – And are you working on something now? Besides the ants…
Him – You’ll understand if I can’t talk about that.
Her – Of course… Professional confidentiality…
Him – Sorry.
Her – I can’t seem to find the waiter…
Him – I’ll take care of it.
He stands up.
Her – I’ll have another with you. Tell the waiter to put it all on Mr…
She gestures towards the man across the room who supposedly bought her a drink. He heads offstage. She takes the opportunity to flirt with the man across the room. Her companion returns with two Bloody Marys and sits down.
Him – Here you go.
Her – Well, cheers!
Him – Cheers!
He raises his glass to drink.
Her – Oh, I think someone’s noticed you.
Him – Sorry?
She nods towards a woman in the audience.
Her – Haven’t you noticed? She’s been staring at you…
Him – Are you sure?
He looks toward the woman in the audience, and she takes the opportunity to switch their glasses.
Her – If things don’t work out with me, you could always give her a try… She looks more your type.
Him – Why not…
Her – Here’s to your next victim!
They clink glasses and drink.
Him – Thanks for the cocktail.
Her – Forgive my curiosity, but I’m a little intrigued, obviously. This is the first time I’ve met a hitman…
Him – When you meet a hitman, you know, the first time is often the last…
Her – True! I hadn’t thought of that.
He takes another drink.
Him – So, what do you want to know?
Her – If you had to kill a woman, how would you go about it?
Him – There are a few ways, but for a woman… it requires elegance. Perhaps a bit of strychnine in her drink…
She smiles.
Her – I know who you’re working for.
Him – Oh really?
Her – And I know you’ve been hired to kill me.
Him – Why would anyone want to kill you?
Her – I’m a hitwoman too. They call me Bloody Mary.
Him – I see…
Her – You’re the third hitman they’ve sent after me. I must say, the other two weren’t nearly as entertaining as you.
Him – And… what happened to them?
Her – They’re dead. Quite suddenly…
Him – And yet, here you are, still alive…
Her – As you can see. In perfect health, in fact.
Him – Not for much longer.
Her – What makes you say that?
Him – I put strychnine in your glass.
Her – I swapped our glasses while you were eyeing that floozy.
Him – Ah…
Her – Don’t worry, it’ll be over quickly.
He rummages through his pockets, pulling out two small packets, which he examines.
Him – Oh, damn…
Her – What?
Him – I used the wrong packet. What I put in your glas – or rather, in the one I drank – wasn’t strychnine. It was ant poison…
Her – So, you were telling the truth? You’ve actually got a contract on an ant colony?
Him – No, but I’ve got loads of ants at home, and they’re a real nuisance, I assure you.
Her – Lucky for you, you’re not an ant.
Him – And the ants don’t seem too affected by it, either.
Her – Well then, you may as well finish your poisoned cocktail.
Him – I do feel a bit strange, though.
Her – Strange, as in… even stranger than usual?
Him – Feels like… ants crawling up my arms.
Her – Ants?
Him – Apparently, it’s quite laxative, too. Sorry, but I think I’ll have to leave you.
Her – It’s been a pleasure having a drink with you. Perhaps we’ll meet again…
He gives a weak smile and hurries off.
Black.
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A sketch from the collection Killer Sketches
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)
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