A sketch by Jean-Pierre Martinez
He enters wearing a blonde wig and holding a football. She enters behind him, wearing a man’s jacket and a moustache, either Hitler-style or like Charlie Chaplin’s.
Her (loud) – Guten Tag…
Him (jumping)- But… Who are you?
Her – I am… the baby-sitter. (He looks terrified. She takes out a pack of cigarettes and offers him the pack.) Do you smoke?
Him (about to take one, then changing his mind) – No, thank you.
Her – Natürlich. It’s forbidden! There’s an ashtray, but that doesn’t mean anything! It’s only there so rule-breakers don’t burn the carpet… That’s so French. We make laws, but always plan a plan B in case someone breaks them… (She takes out a pack of chewing gum.) Want a chewing gum?
Him – It gives me gas…
Her – You know why subway crickets are going extinct?
Him – There are crickets in the subway?
Her – Or grasshoppers, I can’t remember. It’s because they used to feed on cigarette butts. Now that smoking’s banned in the metro, they’re dying out. Can you believe it? An entire ecosystem, ruined… Although I suppose they could start chewing old gum instead…
Him – I saw an exhibition about urban wildlife. People don’t realise it, but there’s incredible fauna in big cities like London. I heard there are even wolves. Hundreds of them!
Her – Wolves?
Him – But they only come out at night, in the parks…
Her – You mean… foxes?
Him – Oh, yes, maybe… I’ve never actually seen one.
Her – That’s because the parks are closed at night…
A door slams. He looks very worried.
Her – The cleaner shut the door on her way out… and took the key with her.
Him – There aren’t any windows… We can’t even call for help…
Her – You don’t have a mobile phone…?
He searches his pockets. His face lights up when he pulls something out.
Him – Ah, yes! (His face drops again.) Damn, it’s the remote control I’ve been looking for all week…
Her – But… there’s no TV!
Him – Right… The postman will rescue us tomorrow morning.
Her – Tomorrow’s Christmas!
Him – Oh, right… Shit…
Her – Maybe you’d like to lie down?
He stares at her, terrified. She pulls out a white sheet.
Her – If we’re going to spend Christmas Eve together, we might as well get comfy… Which side do you prefer?
Him – I don’t have a preference.
Her – Then I’ll take this one…
She slips under the sheet. He gets in too. They prepare to sleep.
Her – Well then… Merry Christmas!
Him – Yeah… Merry Christmas…
A pause. He lets out a cry and suddenly wakes up. She wakes up too. He no longer has the wig, and she’s no longer wearing the moustache.
Her – Are you okay, darling?
Him – Yes, yes… I must’ve had a nightmare. I dreamt it was Christmas…
Her (looking at him, baffled) – But darling… it is Christmas!
Black.
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A sketch from the collection Him and Her
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)
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