Lucky's Funeral [Scene 1]

Lucky’s Funeral: An Unperformable Work
By Molly Meek (Amateur)

Foreword by Molly Meek:
A play that begs to be performed when read and begs to be read when performed. It lives an unfortunate existence.

Characters
Lucky
Hee

Prelude

VLADIMIR: Yes of course it was there. Do you not remember? We nearly hanged ourselves from it. But you wouldn't. Do you not remember?
ESTRAGON: You dreamt it.
VLADIMIR: Is it possible you've forgotten already?
ESTRAGON: That's the way I am. Either I forget immediately or I never forget.

Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot: Act II.

Scene 1

A grand chair right in the middle of the stage, with two long ropes tied to two of its legs. The ropes should be long enough to extend to the furthest ends of the stage. There are two compact discs on the chair.

Enters Lucky from the left, with a huge cookie in his mouth. Lucky carries a microphone. One of the ropes is tied to one of his legs.

Lucky moves the microphone to his mouth, trying to speak but realizes that he can’t.

Enters Hee from the right, with a huge cookie in his mouth and carrying a biscuit tin. The other rope is tied to one of his legs.

Lucky and Hee embrace each other. They try to talk, but the cookie prevents them from doing so. They face the audience and pout with the cookies still in their mouths. Each then proceeds to pick up a compact disc from the chair.

Lucky and Hee face each other. Lucky slides the compact disc he is holding into Hee’s pocket.
Hee, in turn, slides the compact disc he is holding into Lucky’s pockets.
Lucky removes the cookie in Hee’s mouth as Hee opens his biscuit tin. Lucky puts the cookie into the tin.
Hee removes the cookie in Lucky’s mouth. Hee puts the cookie into the tin.

Both:
(Somewhat mechanically.) Ah…

Hee opens the biscuit tin and Lucky puts his microphone into the tin. Hee then puts the tin under the chair.
Lucky:
Couldn’t talk with those cookies in our mouths.

Hee:
Well, stop complaining. We couldn’t live without those cookies to sustain us. That’s the way it goes unless you want to be fired.

Lucky:
So be it! I have forgotten your name. Should I apologize?

Hee:
It’s ok. (As a matter of factly.) I’m sympathetic to patients with selective amnesia. And you aren’t doing the selecting. … I am Hee.

Lucky:
He? Sounds familiar.

Hee:
(In mock delight.) Perhaps your condition is getting better, Lucky!

Lucky:
I’m Lucky?

Hee:
So they say! And so you said! And so you are!

Lucky:
Really? I don’t … feel… I don’t feel it in my bones at all. Not even in my boner! (Blank pause.) Who named me?

Hee:
I’m totally ignorant about your family history, dear. But that’s the name in your passport. You can’t go wrong with passports. Aren’t we supposed to be discussing how we are going to stage a play?

Lucky:
Are we allowed to stage a play?

Hee:
It depends on what sort of play.

Lucky:
A word play. Plays these days usually dispense with words.

Hee:
I’m asking you about the story.

Lucky:
Are you sure we can’t go wrong?

Hee:
You haven’t told me the story!

Lucky:
I’m talking about passports. Sure we can’t go wrong with them? Say, how do I know if I’m the passport’s?

Hee:
It knows, don’t worry.

Lucky:
How about chairs? They sound pretty authoritative.

Hee:
Chairs will also know if you are theirs, I assume.

Lucky:
No, I’m talking about the play! The production with a streamlined budget!

Hee:
No!

Lucky:
What are they for?

Hee:
(Warily.) They? Passports or chairs?

Lucky:
I can’t remember. (Pauses to ponder.) Passports then!

Hee:
To keep you grounded.

Lucky:
Logical. Why not chairs?

Hee:
Chairs keep you grounded too.

Lucky:
No, why can’t we make a play about chairs?

Hee:
There’s no knowing what you mean. …There isn’t enough budget.

Lucky:
(Disappointed.) Not even for one chair?

Hee:
We can’t afford it. Or rather, we can’t afford to risk spoiling it.

Lucky:
I could be the chair and you could sit on my laps.

Hee:
No, they might detect homosexual undertones. Furthermore, chairs and homosexual undertones are not complementary.

Lucky:
Is the audience so sensitive?

Hee:
I never said anything about the audience.

Lucky:
(Curtly.) Sorry. I must be having a relapse.

Hee looks away, silent.

Lucky:
How about overtones instead?

Hee looks away, silent.

Lucky:
Let’s stage something about a failed attempt to stage a play about chairs.

Hee:
(Interested, but hesitant.) Is it about the failure or about the attempt? We shouldn’t confuse the audience.

Lucky:
(Agitated.) Now you are talking about the audience! Have you forgotten that we have no audience? Yesterday, we decided to make a play to entertain ourselves! We had been doing nothing ever since Ozzo disappeared.

Hee:
Still, we need to be professional and take into consideration the economic pros and cons. Anything that compromises efficiency and profitability is not viable. Be practical, won’t you?

Lucky:
I feel like caning you with a carrot.

Hee:
Whatever. Just don’t expose any buttocks. (Pause.) (Excitedly.) You remember Ozzo?

Lucky:
No, not quite. I remember his disappearance. An absence engraved somewhere in my mind.

Hee:
That’s sad. What could we possibly do?

Lucky:
You are a little too obsessed with doing things.

Hee:
Is there any other track that we can take?

Lucky:
Perhaps. But there can only be so many tracks. How many identical roads are not taken?

Hee:
Let’s come back tomorrow then. There might be more things to see.

Lucky:
(Resignedly.) Whatever.

Hee opens his biscuit tin, takes out a cookie and puts it into Lucky’s mouth.
Lucky takes out the other cookie and puts it into Hee’s mouth.