A Sketch by Jean-Pierre Martinez
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.
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A sketch from the collection Open Letters
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