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.

One (man or woman) arrives, opens their mailbox, and unsurprisingly but with a certain sadness, finds it empty. Another character (man or woman) arrives, also opens their mailbox, and after a moment of surprise, pulls out a stack of letters.
One – Looks like you’ve got mail today…
Two – Yes, I don’t understand… Usually, aside from junk mail… Let me see…
Their face darkens.
One – No bad news, I hope…
Two – No news at all… It’s the mail for my neighbours on this floor… The mailman got it wrong again…
One – Ah…
Two – I’ll put it back in their mailbox.
One – Yes…
Two – So, nothing for you either…
One – No, no mail today…
The other is about to put the mail into another mailbox but drops the stack on the ground.
Two – Darn!
One – Wait, I’ll help you.
The two characters bend down to pick up the envelopes and take the opportunity to examine them.
Two – Well, I didn’t know he subscribed to Diving Magazine…
One – True, we’re quite far from the sea…
Two – He must do scuba diving in the pool.
One – Or in his bathtub…
Two – There’s also a letter with the Fire Brigade letterhead.
One – Maybe he’s a volunteer firefighter.
Two – Or maybe it’s an invitation to the annual ball…
Laughter. Embarrassment.
Two – Isn’t this a bit intrusive, what we’re doing?
One – Yes, a bit… What else?
The two characters start examining the envelopes.
One – A postcard.
Two – Where is it from?
One – The Balearic Islands. Ibiza.
Two – What does it say?
One – Still…
Two – That doesn’t count; it’s a postcard! Even the postman could have read it…
One – “A little hello from the Ibiza, where we’re spending a week on vacation. The landscapes are beautiful, and the weather is lovely. See you very soon. Kisses. Peter and Jack.”
Two – That’s so ordinary…
One – People don’t know how to write anymore.
Two – But still.
One – What?
Two – It’s signed Peter and Jack.
One – Dive buddies, perhaps?
Two – Or firefighter friends…
The two characters immerse themselves again in examining the mail.
Two – Oh, a letter with the address written in pink ink…
One – Oh yes…
Two – I wonder who that could be…
One – Is he married?
Two – Separated, I think.
One – Isn’t there a recipient’s address on the back?
The other turns the letter.
Two – Donald…
One – Why would a Donald write to him in pink ink?
Two – That would explain why his wife left him.
One – How can we find out?
Two – I have my suspicions…
They open the envelope.
One – No way?
Two – Sorry, I couldn’t resist. An impulse, as the serial killers say.
One – Well, now, might as well read it.
Two – “Hello Alan. Excuse me for writing to you with a pink pen, but it’s all I had on hand. Especially since it’s to tell you some very sad news. Aunt Mary passed away yesterday…”
One – A death announcement in pink ink… How could we have guessed?
Two – This mail is so disappointing. I wonder if it’s worth continuing.
One – You’re right. This guy is so ordinary.
Two – Completely transparent.
One – It’s so simple; I wouldn’t recognise him if I passed him in the stairwell.
Two – Let’s put all this back in his mailbox.
They put the mail back into the recipient’s mailbox and check their watches.
Two – Oh my… Already! I’m going to miss my soap opera.
One – Ah, you watch it too?
Two – Thankfully, there’s TV to change our minds a bit…
They exit.
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 Wrong address 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.

A woman arrives, opens a mailbox, and disappointedly finds it empty. A man arrives.
Man – No mail today?
Woman – A few years ago, I still received the occasional wedding invitation or so. But gradually, nothing. I feel like I’m the only survivor of my generation.
Man – If I die before you, I promise to send you a funeral invitation.
Woman – That’s kind of you. I still go down every morning to check if I have any mail. It gives me a bit of exercise.
The man opens his mailbox overflowing with letters.
Man – I would give you some of mine, but they are mainly hate mail.
Woman – Hate mail? Oh yes… Your wife left you, right?
Man – I think she didn’t handle the career change too well. But it’s not her who’s sending me all these letters, you know.
Woman – You’re not a French teacher anymore?
Man – I resigned a few months ago. Now I work in a horse butchery.
Woman – That must be quite a change.
Man – It’s messier.
Woman – Oh yes, quite a career change.
Man – Since I was a little kid, I always wanted to work with meat. Some dream of becoming firefighters; I dreamed of becoming a butcher.
Woman – There’s room for everyone in this world, isn’t there?
Man – Both my parents were philosophy professors. Needless to say, they weren’t too thrilled about this plan. I think they would have preferred if I had told them I was gay and wanted to be an actor. So, I first studied literature to please them, married a Latin professor. But in the end, passion won out. I took evening classes, got my certification, incidentally got divorced, and here I am, finally a butcher!
Woman – Butchery is an honourable profession. But why horses?
Man – I think cows and calves would have reminded me too much of my old teaching job.
Woman – I understand… But all these hate letters? I imagine it’s not the horses writing to complain…
Man – Oh, that? Actually, it has nothing to do with my new profession. These are my former students who keep writing to me. I stopped in June, and they don’t know yet that I resigned.
Woman – And you read all of them?
Man – Do you think so! If only they were well-written. But the vocabulary is poor, the syntax is deplorable, and it’s full of spelling mistakes. Here, let me open one at random…
He opens an envelope and reads.
Man – Screw your mother, you dumbass, I’ll catch you, I’ll kill you… I told you…
Woman – You know what? They didn’t deserve you.
Man – I’ll put these directly in recycling.
Woman – In that case, give them to me. It will keep me occupied.
Man – If you insist… (He hands her the stack of letters which she takes.) But I warned you…
Woman – If I find one that is more interesting than the others from a literary point of view, I’ll set it aside for you.
Man – Perfect! And I’ll set aside a little horse steak for lunch! It’s excellent for your health, you’ll see. Horse meat is much leaner than beef, and it’s full of iron.
Woman – Iron? Not horseshoe iron, I hope.
Man – Ah, don’t forget that a horseshoe brings good luck! Well then, have a good day! Meat doesn’t wait!
Woman – Thank you, have a good day too!
He leaves. She looks at the stack of letters.
Woman – Let’s see…
She also walks away, reading the first letter she has just opened.
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 Insult Letters est apparu en premier sur La Sketchothèque.