The postman slips letters into each mailbox. A tenant arrives.
Tenant – Can’t you read?
Postman – Of course! And you?
Tenant – No Junk Mail, it says there on my box!
Postman – Ah, but this isn’t junk mail! I am your new postman.
Tenant – Oh, really? And what’s this then?
Postman – It’s an initiative we’ve just launched at Post Office. You know, now with the internet, we have to diversify our tasks…
Tenant – So what?
Postman – For those who no longer receive letters, we’ve decided to distribute royalty-free letters.
Tenant – Royalty-free?
The postman shows what he has in his bag.
Postman – ‘Letters from My Windmill,’ ‘Persian Letters,’ ‘Letters from Madame de Sévigné’…
Tenant – Why?
Postman – To re-enchant the world! And re-enchant The Post Office! Traditional mail has disappeared, fine. It saves paper. And so, it avoids cutting down trees. But people don’t read anymore! And that’s terrible, isn’t it?
Tenant – Yes, of course.
Postman – Literature is the memory of the world! Wanting to save the forests is perfect. But we must also preserve what constitutes our true wealth! Our cultural heritage – books! Do you know how many letters there are in our alphabet?
Tenant – Approximately 26, right?
Postman – Can you imagine?
Tenant – What?
Postman – With just 26 letters, by combining them, man can express everything.
Tenant – Yes…
Postman – And yet, when I say 26… Do you know which language in the world has the fewest letters?
Tenant – Well, no…
Postman – Rotokas. A language spoken in the Solomon Islands. Its alphabet has only 12 characters.
Tenant – Really?
Postman – A dozen letters to express all of humanity’s thoughts.
Tenant – Yes, that’s… Do you have mail for me?
Postman – Ten numbers to understand the mechanics of the universe.
Tenant – Can I have my mail?
Postman – And seven notes to compose all the music in the world.
Tenant – So, no mail…
Postman – And what will remain of all this in a few billion years? When the sun, in its grand finale, has reduced us all to ashes?
Tenant – I don’t know…
Postman – A few hieroglyphs engraved on stones that haven’t melted yet. Some concise remarks like in the early days of writing. Truly, I tell you – the first stammerings of humanity will also be its final breath.
Tenant – Yes…
Postman – When The Post Office is gone, the epitaphs of our ancestors will survive us for a moment. Like a delivery notice. But remember one thing. (With emphasis) Only the memory of the music of the spheres will survive us forever.
Tenant – I didn’t understand anything…
Black.

All the texts available on this website can be downloaded for free. However, performance rights, which constitute fair compensation for the author’s work, are a legal obligation. Whether you are an amateur or a professional, you must request authorization to perform the play and pay the corresponding royalties for the production.

To get in touch with Jean-Pierre Martinez and ask an authorization to represent one of his works: CONTACT FORM.

A sketch from the collection Open Letters
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)

Find all of Jean-Pierre Martinez’s plays on his website:
https://jeanpierremartinez.net

L’article Delivery Notice est apparu en premier sur La Sketchothèque.

The postman arrives and looks for a name on a mailbox but can’t find it. A tenant appears.
Postman – Excuse me, Miss Taylor, do you know her?
Tenant – Taylor? No… Well, yes… That was my maiden name. But nobody calls me that anymore… And I’ve been married for twenty years.
Postman – Nevertheless, this is the correct address.
Tenant – Let me see…
The postman hands her the envelope.
Tenant – It’s strange; it looks like a collectible stamp… But look, the postmark is from March 21, 1985… Nearly thirty years ago!
The postman examines the envelope.
Postman – Oh yes, indeed… That’s incredible.
Tenant – What could it be?
Postman – Why don’t you open it since it’s addressed to you?
Tenant – Do you think so?
Postman – Miss Taylor, is it still you?
Tenant – Yes… Well, it used to be…
She opens the envelope and scans its contents.
Postman – So?
Tenant – It’s a letter from my ex-boyfriend… My first love.
Postman – What does it say? If it’s not too indiscreet, of course.
Tenant – He apologises for not being able to make it to our last date; he broke his leg. He’s stuck in the hospital.
Postman – These things happen; I know what I’m talking about.
Tenant – And to think I believed he stood me up…
Postman – True, at that time, there was no internet. There weren’t even mobile phones. What else does he say?
Tenant – He says he loves me… Can you imagine? If only I had known…
Postman – It’s incredible! This letter took 30 years to reach you…
Tenant – Yes… And I don’t congratulate you!
Postman – Excuse me?
Tenant – If this letter had reached me on time, my life could have been very different!
Postman – Yes, of course, but…
Tenant – I really wonder what he has become…
Postman – What was his name?
Tenant – It’s written on the back of the envelope, isn’t it?
The postman checks.
Postman – No? That’s not true!
Tenant – What?
Postman – But I’m the one who sent you this letter! I had completely forgotten!
Tenant – You? Are you sure?
Postman – Absolutely! It’s my name, and it’s the address of my parents. Where I lived at that time…
Tenant – I wouldn’t have recognised you at all…
Postman – It’s been thirty years… I haven’t forgotten your first name, of course, but your last name…
Tenant – So, you became a postman.
Postman – Yes… I was so depressed that you never replied to my letter… Thinking back, I believe that’s why I became a postman. To have the joy of bringing others the answers I never received.
Tenant – And your leg, is it better?
Postman – Yes, thank you… But please, call me Mike…
Tenant – Well, I’m in a bit of a hurry now. My husband is waiting for me outside with the car.
Postman – Of course…
He watches her leave, almost running.
Postman – Miss Taylor…
Black.

All the texts available on this website can be downloaded for free. However, performance rights, which constitute fair compensation for the author’s work, are a legal obligation. Whether you are an amateur or a professional, you must request authorization to perform the play and pay the corresponding royalties for the production.

To get in touch with Jean-Pierre Martinez and ask an authorization to represent one of his works: CONTACT FORM.

A sketch from the collection Open Letters
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)

Find all of Jean-Pierre Martinez’s plays on his website:
https://jeanpierremartinez.net

L’article Love Letter est apparu en premier sur La Sketchothèque.

A postman (man or woman) arrives with a package and encounters a tenant who also arrives.
Postman – Oh, I had a package for you, by the way.
Tenant – Thank you.
The postman hands her the package.
Postman – A little signature…
Tenant – Of course…
Overloaded, the tenant hands the package back to the postman to sign the receipt he offers.
Tenant – Excuse me, I’ll return this for a second.
The tenant signs the receipt and smiles.
Tenant – I hope it’s not a parcel bomb…
The postman responds in the same joking tone.
Postman – It does sound like there’s a ticking inside.
They laugh.
Tenant – You see so many things nowadays! (Suddenly stops laughing) Is it true?
The postman, taking her seriously, puts his ear against the package.
Postman – Well… Yes, it sounds like it.
The tenant suddenly looks worried. She, too, puts her ear to the package.
Tenant – But yes… I hear it too… Do you think it could…
The postman also changes his tone.
Postman – Do you know anyone who would have a reason to hold a grudge against you to this extent?
Tenant – I don’t know… Apart from my mother-in-law… But we all have enemies, don’t we?
Postman – Still.
The tenant hesitates.
Tenant – So, I’m not sure I want to take it now…
Postman – What should I do with it then?
Tenant – Just take it back to the Post Office.
Postman – I haven’t finished my round yet… What if it blows up on me along the way? And now, you’ve signed the receipt…
He hands the package to the other, who refuses to take it.
Tenant – What if we call the police?
Postman – The police?
Tenant – Like when you find a suspicious package in a train station or on a train.
Postman – You mean… a bomb disposal unit?
Tenant – They will know what to do…
Postman – And if the bomb explodes before they arrive?
Tenant – I don’t know… Let’s just throw the package into the street…
Postman – And if passersby get hurt? Children, perhaps… It’s school closing time… We can’t do that!
Tenant – You’re right… There’s nothing left but to prepare ourselves to die with dignity, with the only consolation that our sacrifice will have saved a few innocent lives…
Postman – Our sacrifice? What exactly are you proposing?
Tenant – We need to act, and fast!
She takes the package from the postman, throws it to the ground, and stomps on it violently.
Postman – Are you out of your mind?
Tenant – It didn’t explode…
Postman – No…
They both bend down to examine the package.
Postman – Oh, yes… It was indeed a clock… But I don’t see any bomb…
Tenant – No, it’s strange…
Postman – But I think about it, who’s the sender?
Tenant – The sender?
Postman – In principle, it’s written on the receipt!
Tenant – Oh yes…
The postman looks at the receipt.
Postman – It’s from Switzerland… That’s curious…
Tenant – Yes, it’s probably the country in the world with the fewest terrorists…
Postman – Mrs. Manson… Do you know her?
Tenant – She’s my mother-in-law.
The postman searches through the remains of the package.
Postman – Look… There’s a letter of claim…
He hands the sheet to the other, who reads it.
Tenant – Happy birthday, my darling… It’s for her son’s birthday.
Postman – Her son?
Tenant – My husband!
Postman – A clock… That’s a strange gift for a birthday, isn’t it?
Tenant – My stepfather is a watchmaker.
Postman – And it didn’t raise any suspicions when you heard the ticking… I mean?
They both contemplate the battered remains of the package.
Postman – Your husband will be pleased… How old is he, by the way?
Tenant – It still smells a bit like gunpowder, doesn’t it?
Postman – I would say more like chocolate…
Tenant – Ah, yes, look, there were also chocolates with it. (She takes the battered box and hands it to the postman.) Do you want one?
Postman – What if they were poisoned?
They exchange a perplexed look.
Black.

All the texts available on this website can be downloaded for free. However, performance rights, which constitute fair compensation for the author’s work, are a legal obligation. Whether you are an amateur or a professional, you must request authorization to perform the play and pay the corresponding royalties for the production.

To get in touch with Jean-Pierre Martinez and ask an authorization to represent one of his works: CONTACT FORM.

A sketch from the collection Open Letters
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)

Find all of Jean-Pierre Martinez’s plays on his website:
https://jeanpierremartinez.net

L’article Parcel Bomb est apparu en premier sur La Sketchothèque.

A character (man or woman) arrives to check their mail in their mailbox. They open the box, take out a few envelopes, and quickly examine them.
Tenant – Bill, taxes, contribution notice, bill…
Postman – Excuse me… Mr. Martin, does that ring a bell?
Tenant – Yes…
Postman – I don’t see his name on the box. Which floor?
Tenant – Seventh. But he passed away last week.
Postman – Oh damn… So, basically… he moved.
Tenant – You could say that, yes.
Postman – No, because I have a registered letter for him…
Tenant – Ah, yeah… that’s unfortunate.
Postman – So, what do I do?
Tenant – I don’t know…
Postman – Did he leave an address?
Tenant – He’s dead, I told you.
Postman – Oh yeah… But who is going to sign for my registered letter?
Tenant – That…
Postman – So, he won’t come back…
Tenant – It’s unlikely.
Postman – That’s not convenient for me.
Tenant – There are always troubles, you know… But I’m not sure he died just to make your life difficult…
Postman – Mmm… Then, I don’t know… Can’t you sign for him?
Tenant – Why would I do that?
Postman – Among neighbours… we can do each other small favours… It would save me from coming back.
Tenant – Coming back? Why?
Postman – To deliver this registered letter!
Tenant – But I told you he’s dead! Dead, you understand? And there’s at least one advantage to being dead, it’s that you become totally and permanently inaccessible to all kinds of registered letters!
Postman – I understand.
Tenant – You can always leave him a delivery notice!
Postman – You think?
Tenant – By the way, what’s in that registered letter? Tax assessment? Eviction notice? Termination notice?
The postman glances at the envelope.
Postman – It’s from the National Lottery.
Tenant – The National Lottery?
Postman – It can’t be bad news.
Tenant – Do you really think that when you’re dead, you can still tell the difference between good and bad news?
Postman – Of course… But still…
The tenant takes the registered letter from the postman’s hand.
Tenant – Let me see… Oh yes, the National Lottery, indeed.
Postman – Do you know if he played the lottery?
Tenant – I don’t know… I knew him very little… We crossed paths occasionally… He had a dog…
Postman – And what happened to him?
Tenant – He died, I told you.
Postman – The dog died too?
Tenant – No, not the dog, him!
Postman – And what happened to the dog?
Tenant – The dog? I don’t know…
Postman – It’s sad, a dog that ends up all alone in life like that… I don’t understand all these people who take an animal and then abandon it. Taking care of an animal is a responsibility. People don’t realise…
Tenant – Do you think he won the jackpot?
Postman – If that’s the case, he shouldn’t wait too long to show up. Because there’s a deadline. If you don’t pick up your check before, you lose everything, and the amount is put back into play.
Tenant – It would be a shame indeed.
Postman – So, what do we do?
Tenant – We?
Postman – As you say, it would be a shame…
Tenant – Okay. I’ll sign.
Postman – It’ll save me from coming back.
The tenant signs the receipt handed to him by the postman, eagerly opens the envelope, and reads.
Postman – So?
Tenant – It’s a settlement of all accounts…
Postman – It’s not a check?
Tenant – He worked for the National Lottery. It’s just a notice of the end of his contract.
Postman – So, in addition, he lost his job… That’s really unfortunate. Because finding a job these days isn’t easy.
Tenant – Especially when you’re dead.
Postman – And with the crisis, on top of that.
Tenant – I know what it’s like; I’m unemployed too.
Postman – Oh yes, that’s unfortunate… And obviously, it’s never people like you who win the lottery, huh? Those who really need it.
Tenant – No.
Postman – I read an article in the newspaper yesterday – ‘He wins 60 million in the lottery and continues to live exactly as before…’ I’ll tell you, some people don’t deserve to win!
Tenant – That’s clear.
Postman – Well, it’s not all that, but I have to continue my rounds.
He’s about to leave. The tenant brandishes the letter.
Tenant – What do I do with this?
Postman – That’s up to you… As long as you’ve signed the receipt.
The postman is about to leave.
Postman – But if I were you, I’d write to them.
Tenant – To whom?
Postman – To the National Lottery! Since a position has just become available…
The postman leaves. The tenant looks at the registered letter again, perplexed.
Black.

All the texts available on this website can be downloaded for free. However, performance rights, which constitute fair compensation for the author’s work, are a legal obligation. Whether you are an amateur or a professional, you must request authorization to perform the play and pay the corresponding royalties for the production.

To get in touch with Jean-Pierre Martinez and ask an authorization to represent one of his works: CONTACT FORM.

A sketch from the collection Open Letters
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)

Find all of Jean-Pierre Martinez’s plays on his website:
https://jeanpierremartinez.net

L’article Dead Letter est apparu en premier sur La Sketchothèque.