Alice is standing there, appearing to wait for something. Tom arrives and starts waiting as well. He looks at her discreetly. She avoids his gaze.
Tom – Excuse me, are you waiting for a taxi?
Alice – Yes…
Tom – No, don’t worry, it’s not… just trying to start a conversation.
Alice – A conversation?
Tom – I mean, it’s not to hit on you. I was really just asking if you were waiting for a taxi.
Alice – Alright…
Tom – You could very well be waiting for something else.
Alice – What else could you wait for at a taxi rank? A bus?
Tom – So you are waiting for a taxi…
Alice – And…?
Tom – And since you were first, the next taxi will be for you. That’s why I asked. I now know I’ll have to wait for the next one.
Alice – Sorry for you.
Tom – No, no, don’t apologise… It’s not a big deal.
Alice – I wasn’t apologising.
A pause.
Tom – I’m suddenly having doubts…
Alice – Again?
Tom – Are you sure this is a proper taxi rank?
Alice – There’s a sign. It says “taxi.”
Tom – Yeah, but that doesn’t mean much.
Alice – Oh, doesn’t it?
Tom – In a place like this… It’s not certain there’s an actual taxi rank.
Alice – Why would it say “taxi,” then?
Tom – It might just be a meeting point.
Alice – A meeting point?
Tom – I mean, a rendezvous point. In small country stations, it’s often like that.
Alice – This isn’t exactly a small country station…
Tom – Small provincial towns, if you prefer. People book a taxi the day before to go to the hospital or wherever, and the next day, the taxi waits for them at that spot. At a specific time. In front of the “taxi” sign.
Alice – Oh, really?
Tom – Did you book a taxi?
Alice – No.
Tom – Let’s just hope it’s a genuine taxi rank…
A longer silence, as doubt settles in.
Alice – So you think we’re waiting for nothing?
Tom – I don’t know…
A pause.
Alice – What if we called a taxi company?
Tom – That’s only in Paris. In some big provincial cities, maybe. Certainly not here…
Alice – Right… so we’ll just wait.
A pause.
Tom – Do you have the time, please? (Alice gives him a surprised look.) No, I’m not saying that to…
Alice – Start a conversation…?
Tom – I don’t have a watch… (Alice notices the watch on his wrist.) Well, I do, but… the battery’s dead.
Alice – Why do you still wear it, then?
Tom – I don’t know… I suppose I got attached…
Alice – Alright…
Tom – No, I’m joking. The battery just gave out. Just now.
Alice – Bad luck.
Tom – So?
Alice – So?
Tom – Do you have the time?
Alice – Oh, sorry… (She looks at her watch.) It’s almost midnight…
Tom – Midnight…
Alice – Yes… There’s little chance that someone has booked a taxi to go to the hospital at this time.
Tom – Unless it’s an emergency… But in case of a heart attack or stroke, you wouldn’t book a taxi the night before, would you?
Alice – No… probably not.
Tom – I don’t know… Maybe it really is a proper taxi rank…
Alice – We’ll wait a bit longer.
Tom – Even if it is a taxi rank, it doesn’t necessarily mean a taxi will actually show up. On a Sunday night, at midnight, in this dump of a town…
Alice – You’re not exactly an optimist, are you? I’m beginning to wonder if I did the right thing by starting this conversation.
Tom – Sorry… But I can be very funny sometimes, you know?
Alice – Probably unintentionally, I’d guess.
Tom – Can I ask where you’re heading?
Alice – Why?
Tom – Oh, not to…
Alice – To hit on me.
Tom – It’s just that… it would be a miracle if just one taxi arrived within the next hour, let alone a second one. I was thinking if we’re heading more or less in the same direction, we could share. I mean, take the same taxi.
Alice – Well, I don’t know…
Tom – Where are you going?
Alice (pointing in a direction) – I’m going that way…
Tom (a bit taken aback) – Oh, right…
Alice – And you?
Tom – Me too… More or less…
Alice – We’d need to get a taxi first.
Tom – I assure you, I’m not saying this to hit on you, but…
Alice – If you stopped starting every sentence with “I’m not saying this to hit on you,” I assure you it would be a bit more credible.
Tom – Sorry…
A pause.
Alice – Well, go ahead then.
Tom – No, it’s just… I have this feeling that I’ve seen you somewhere before.
Alice looks momentarily bewildered.
Alice – Wait… “Do you have the time?” “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before?” “Do you still live with your parents?” It’s almost done as well. What’s the next question? “Do you happen to have a light?” Relax. We’ve already started the conversation.
Tom – OK.
Alice – If you have something interesting to say, go ahead, I’m listening. Don’t bother with the preliminaries because I assure you, preliminaries are not your thing…
Tom – Sorry, it’s just that… I really had the feeling I’d seen you somewhere before.
Alice – Sorry, I’m a bit on edge…
A pause. He pulls out a cigarette and looks in his pockets for something to light it with. In vain.
Tom – So, I’m hesitant to ask if you have a light…
Alice – I don’t. I don’t smoke.
He puts away his cigarette.
Tom – Never mind… I mean… Good for you if you don’t smoke.
Alice – Yes.
A pause.
Tom – Waiting for a taxi…
Alice – Yes, I got that.
Tom – No, it’s… It’s the title of a song I wrote a long time ago.
Alice – You write songs?
Tom – Yes… Well, no, not anymore, but… Why, do I look like someone who writes songs?
Alice – I don’t know. I don’t know anyone who writes songs. At least not personally. And what was that song about?
Tom – It’s the story of a guy who… who waits for a taxi.
Alice – Yes, from the title, I suspected as much. Is that it?
Tom – It was a long time ago. I don’t remember it very well. The first line was… it’s nearly midnight under the pallid neon lights, and for over an hour alone in front of this station… And the chorus was, I’m waiting for the taxi, taxi, taxi…
Alice – I’m waiting for the taxi, taxi, taxi…?
Tom – Yes. That’s what I remember…
Alice – Right… And did your taxi eventually show up?
Tom – No… You see… I’m still waiting for it…
Alice – That’s not very encouraging.
Tom – Well, the whole taxi thing was symbolic, of course. The guy waiting for the taxi… that will take him somewhere. It was a bit like me when I was younger, you see. Me or someone else. At eighteen, we’re all waiting for something to happen, aren’t we? For life to embrace us. For someone to come…
Alice – I see. And in your case, then, no one came.
Tom – No… Well, actually, yes… Since then, I’ve taken quite a few taxis, of course. But not the one that would have taken me where I really wanted to go.
Alice – And where exactly did you want to go?
Tom – I don’t know…
Alice – Well, for now, I’d quite like to get home.
Tom – So, you don’t live with your parents.
Alice – No. Why? Do you live with your parents?
Tom – No… Well, it depends.
Alice – Depends?
Tom – Depends on the day.
Alice – Right…
A pause.
Tom – It’s coming back to me now!
Alice – What?
Tom – Where we’ve seen each other before.
Alice – And?
Tom – You were at that party at Vincent’s tonight too.
Alice – Yes, indeed… Sorry, I don’t remember you.
Tom – I asked you to dance. You actually refused…
Alice – That didn’t leave much of an impression on you, did it? You didn’t remember me earlier…
Tom – There was mood lighting over there; you looked more… Over here with the neon lights…
Alice – Thanks.
Tom – No, but you’re very pretty too.
Alice – And now, are you sure you’re not trying to hit on me?
Tom – Maybe a little bit now, yes.
Alice – I had planned to go home with a friend who has a car, but she found a guy over there, so…
Tom – Oh yes, unlucky. I mean, for you.
Alice – I thought I might find a taxi. And you?
Tom – Actually… I wasn’t really invited to that party. Well, I was, but… I was invited by a friend who couldn’t come at the last minute, so…
Alice – So, you didn’t know anyone.
Tom – So, I didn’t see myself staying there to sleep.
Alice – Your sensitivity is commendable.
Tom – I came by train. But I missed the last one. The next one is at 7:32 tomorrow morning, I checked.
Alice – And in the meantime, the station is closed.
Tom – I’m not sure it’s worth waiting.
Alice – For the taxi, you mean?
Tom – We have to face the facts, no taxi is going to come here tonight.
Alice – I live thirty kilometres away; I can’t walk home.
Tom – Apart from the 7:32 train, I don’t see any other option.
Alice (looking at her watch) – It’s not even half past midnight yet. We’re not going to wait here for seven hours!
Tom – Especially since it’s not very warm.
Alice – We could go back over there, of course, but…
Tom – To that party, you mean?
Alice – At Vincent’s place, yes.
Tom – Honestly, I’m not sure I want to go back there.
Alice – Oh really?
Tom – Actually, Vincent threw me out.
Alice – He threw you out? Why?
Tom – A murky story about money that went missing from a bag. Since I was the only one nobody knew, I was, of course, the prime suspect. I swear it wasn’t me.
Alice – I know.
Tom – Thanks. Do I really look like someone who would steal from guests at parties where I’m not invited?
Alice – Actually, you do.
Tom – So how do you know I didn’t steal the money?
Alice – Because that money is mine. I thought it had gone missing. I mentioned it to my friend Cecilia, who mentioned it to Vincent. But I’ve just found my money in the lining of my bag.
Tom – Right. So essentially, it’s thanks to you that I was thrown out like a thief.
Alice – I didn’t know my friend would mention it to Vincent. And make such a fuss. That’s partly why I left, actually. I was very uncomfortable…
Tom – And so was I.
Alice – I’m really sorry.
Tom – Yeah.
Alice – Here, if a taxi does eventually show up, I’ll invite you to come with me. I’ll drop you off, and I’ll pay for the ride.
Tom – You’re not taking much of a risk. No taxi is ever going to come here tonight.
Alice – So what can I do to make you forgive me? Even though none of this is really my fault…
Tom – Shouting thief because you can’t find your money… and letting an innocent get accused.
Alice – Well… I didn’t accuse anyone, it was my friend who…
Tom – I saw the hatred in their eyes, I assure you. They could have lynched me…
Alice – Are you sure you’re not exaggerating a bit?
Tom – OK, there is one thing you could do to make me forgive you.
Alice – Go on…
Tom – Dance with me.
Alice – Pardon?
Tom – Earlier, I asked you to dance, and you refused. Give me this dance.
Alice – Here? At a taxi stand?
Tom – We don’t have anything urgent to do, do we?
Alice – There’s not even any music!
Tom – I’ve got some on my phone. You owe me this, don’t you?
Alice hesitates.
Alice – OK, but we’re only talking about dancing, right?
Tom – Right.
He takes out his phone, plays a very classic slow tune, puts the phone on the ground, and opens his arms.
Alice – Are you always ready to whip out a slow dance as soon as you meet a girl at a taxi stand?
Tom – If you prefer another song…
Alice – Let’s go for it. After all, what do I have to lose, since you’re not trying to hit on me at all…
She agrees to let him embrace her, and they start to dance.
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 The Rebels
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)

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

L’article Taxi est apparu en premier sur La Sketchothèque.

Max is there with a bass guitar that he is tuning. Fred arrives with a guitar.
Max – Have you had a look at the room?
Fred – Yeah…
Max – It’s packed to bursting, can you believe it! Apparently, some people are even trying to get in through the emergency exit.
Fred – Oh really?
Max – You won’t believe it, but a girl asked me for an autograph…
Fred – Did you give her your number?
Max – Not even…
Fred – She wasn’t very attractive…?
Max – She was fourteen…
Fred – Right…
Max – Can you hear that?
Fred (distracted) – What?
Max – They’re getting restless. They’re already applauding. Our audience is calling for us!
Fred – Oh, right…
Max – Fred? I feel like something’s happening here. You’ll see, mate. In a few years, when we release our third album and do our first Olympia, we’ll look back at this concert and think that’s where it all began.
Fred seems to be looking for something.
Fred (worried) – Yeah…
Max – Are you alright? You’re not too high, are you?
Fred – No, no… Well, yes, but…
Max – What’s going on?
Fred – I’ve broken a string.
Max – You’ve got plenty of time to change it. And if we keep them waiting a bit… It’ll build up the tension.
Fred – The problem is… I don’t have a spare string.
Max – You don’t have any spare strings?
Fred – I have some, but… not that one.
Max – What do you mean, not that one?
Fred – The B string. I don’t have the B string.
Max – Are you kidding?
Fred – No…
Max – Bloody hell, Fred…
Fred – Don’t you have one?
Max – I do. I’ve got two spare sets of strings for my bass. Though bass strings don’t break often, you know.
Fred – Sorry…
Max – Isn’t there a music shop around here?
Fred – It’s Sunday.
Max – Damn… So what do we do?
Fred – Well… I won’t play with that string, that’s all.
Max – Brilliant…
Fred – I’ve still got five left.
Max – Provided you don’t break another one by then…
Fred – What do you expect? It’s my destroyer side. Jimi Hendrix used to smash his guitar on stage…
Max – Yeah, but he waited until the end of the concert. And I’m sure he always had a spare set of strings. Why don’t you have any spare strings?
Fred – I didn’t have the money.
Max – That’s it… But for buying weed, you always have money.
Fred moves towards him threateningly.
Fred – Hey, what’s this, are you playing my mother or something?
Max – You’re treating me like your mother, Fred. So it’s me who should have spare strings for your crappy guitar, is it? I’m fed up with playing with a bunch of losers.
Fred – No one’s holding you back, Max. You’re pissing everyone off. We’re here to have a good time, not to hear your moral lectures…
Fred walks off. Vincent arrives.
Vincent – Have you seen the crowd in the room?
Max – Yeah.
Vincent – Since we’ve had a female singer, we’ve been getting a lot more attention, have you noticed?
Max – She sings out of tune.
Vincent – Apparently, the guys aren’t just coming to listen to her… You look down… Is there a problem?
Max – Fred’s broken a string.
Vincent – And?
Max – He doesn’t have a spare.
Vincent – Oh shit… (He pulls out a joint, lights it, takes a puff, and offers it to Max.) Want some? It’s Lebanese…
Max – No thanks, I’d prefer to stay clear-headed…
Vincent (laughing) – Clear-headed?
Max – So you’re high too.
Vincent – Completely. Well, shall we go? I think our audience is calling for us…
Max – Damn it, Vincent, don’t you get it! Fred already plays like a beginner with six strings, and with five… The crowd will slaughter us…
Vincent – The crowd? Don’t worry. They’re our mates! And they’re even more stoned than we are…
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 The Rebels
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)

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

L’article Disagreement est apparu en premier sur La Sketchothèque.

He is standing, arms crossed, in front of an imaginary door. She arrives.
Cecilia – Excuse me, is this the artists’ entrance?
Tom – Affirmative.
Cecilia – So this is where they’ll come out.
Tom – Who?
Cecilia – The band! The Rebels!
Tom – Oh, I don’t think so.
Cecilia – But you just told me it was here.
Tom – I said it’s the artists’ entrance.
Cecilia – And so?
Tom – I didn’t say it was the artists’ exit.
Cecilia – Because there’s also an artists’ exit?
Tom – I don’t know, miss. I was just told to keep an eye on this door; that’s all I’m doing…
Cecilia – But look, next to the “artists’ entrance” sign, it also says “emergency exit”.
Tom – Oh, yes…
Cecilia – That means they could also leave through here.
Tom – If there’s a fire, yes.
Cecilia – Do you think they’ll only leave through here if there’s a fire?
Tom – A fire or…
Cecilia – If there’s an emergency exit, there might also be an emergency entrance.
Tom – For what?
Cecilia – I don’t know… In case there’s a fire outside.
Tom – Maybe.
Cecilia – So you don’t know where they’ll come out?
Tom – No.
Cecilia – You don’t seem to know much. For a security guard…
Tom – I’m just doing my job.
Cecilia – And what is your job?
Tom – To monitor the artists’ entrance.
Cecilia – For?
Tom – To ensure no one comes in.
Cecilia – Except for the artists, then.
Tom – Except for the artists.
Cecilia – Well, I don’t want to go in. I just want to ask them for an autograph when they come out.
Tom – To come out, they would first need to come in.
Cecilia – Oh, they haven’t come in yet?
Tom – No.
Cecilia – You could have told me that earlier.
Tom – You didn’t ask.
Cecilia – Alright…
Tom – In that case, you can still ask them when they come in.
Cecilia – Ask them what?
Tom – Ask them where they’re going to come out.
Cecilia – Wouldn’t it be simpler if I asked them for an autograph directly when they come in?
Tom – That’s up to you.
Cecilia – And if you let me in?
Tom – For what?
Cecilia – To wait for them inside. I have a feeling it’s going to rain…
Tom – Ah, that’s not going to be possible, miss. Unless…
Cecilia – Unless…?
Tom – Unless you leave me your phone number.
Cecilia – You’ve got some nerve…
Tom – No, I’m just kidding.
Cecilia – What?
Tom – Of course they’re already here; the concert starts in a quarter of an hour.
Cecilia – Alright… You’re quite the comedian. For a security guard…
Tom – Probably because I’m not a security guard.
Cecilia – Who are you then?
Tom – I’m here for the concert, like you. I stepped out for a smoke while I was waiting for it to start. It’s a local band, you know. It’s not the Rolling Stones. Do you really think they can afford a security guard?
Cecilia – I don’t know…
Tom – Anyway, you’re already a fan. In fact, you’re the only one. They’ll be pleased.
Cecilia – I was just pulling your leg as well. Actually, I was looking for the artists’ entrance to get in without paying. Since I mistook you for a security guard…
Tom – I see…
Cecilia – Do you think it’s possible to get in through there?
Tom – Probably. I managed to get out.
Cecilia – Well, I’ll go then…
Tom – But I still don’t understand why you’re so keen on coming in through the emergency exit.
Cecilia – I told you. To avoid paying.
Tom – Paying? The concert is free. Do you really think anyone would pay to listen to The Rebels?
She looks taken aback.
Cecilia – You’re right, I must have confused them with another band…
Tom – Leave me your number. When there’s a band worth seeing, I’ll give you a call…
Cecilia – Sure…
He lights a joint and offers it to her.
Tom – Want some? It’s Lebanese.
She takes the joint, takes a puff, and grimaces.
Cecilia – It’s from Lebanon?
Tom – Well, the guy who sold it to me was Lebanese. At least, that’s what he said…
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 The Rebels
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)

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

L’article Emergency Exit est apparu en premier sur La Sketchothèque.

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.

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 Stories to die for
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)

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

L’article The End est apparu en premier sur La Sketchothèque.