Cold Ethyl

Characters:

Claude – A nervous assistant at Mr. Cooper’s funeral home

Mr. Cooper – The owner and residential embalmer who imagines himself a witty socialite.

Alice – The funeral director and reluctant audience to Mr. Cooper’s “jokes”

ACT I

Scene 1

A funeral parlor in the late afternoon. The main entrance door to the parlor sits on stage left; the entrance to the morgue, stage right. A relatively clutter-free desk with a large planner spread open, a neat stack of papers, and an organized group of pens stands near to the entrance door.

From the morgue, enter CLAUDE, a young man with gaunt eyes dressed in a button down shirt, black slacks, and dress shoes. His belt is loose, his fly is partially done, and his shirt is un-tucked. He hums and occasionally laughs to himself.

Off-stage sound of a car pulling in the driveway and the engine being cut off. CLAUDE jumps at the noise and stops humming. He quickly stuffs his shirt back into his pants and tightens his belt. The sound of footsteps is audible from behind the door. CLAUDE hurries behind the desk and fools with the planner, fingers a click-pen, and generally looks busy. Enter MR. COOPER and ALICE with her purse

MR. COOPER: So as I was saying to him, I says, "We morticians are pretty gosh-darned popular!" And he says to me, "Well why's that?" "Cause people are dying to come see us!"

ALICE: [Pinching the bridge of her nose] Lovely, sir.

MR. COOPER: That's what I thought! Lovely, just lovely! Perfect mood lightener. You know, we get such a bad reputation in the funeral business. It's always death this and depressing that. Where's the laughter? The life? Why not look on the bright side of death, eh? Wouldn't you agree, Claude?

CLAUDE: Uh, y-yessir! Yes, that sounds, lovely. Real lovely.

MR. COOPER: Ah, there's a good boy. See, Alice, the lad appreciates a sense of humor!

ALICE: [Leaning against the desk] I think he appreciates having a paycheck. [She places her purse on the desk top]

MR. COOPER: Well, it's always good to value your earnings. Not everyone has a steady job nowadays. [To CLAUDE] You're a lucky one, you know.

CLAUDE: Thanks to you, sir. I was barely scraping by before—

MR. COOPER: Yes, yes I remember that. A musician, right?

CLAUDE: Oh, well, an artist, actually—

MR. COOPER: Right! Yes, an artist. Not much money in art these days, is there? Nope, no sirree. You have to be brilliant—oh, not to say that you aren't a brilliant artist, my boy, but just that you must find and cater to the exact taste of the world at the very moment—yes, that sort of brilliance! Exactly, yes. What was it you used to paint, anyway?

CLAUDE: [Glances to the morgue and does not reestablish eye contact] Oh, you know...figures, women.

MR. COOPER: Women! Ah, yes, the female figure! Can't take two steps in a museum without running into ten paintings of women, minimum, can you?

CLAUDE: Guess not, sir.

MR. COOPER: Always a market for beautiful paintings of beautiful women, it seems. I didn't think anyone could go wrong there.

ALICE: Beauty's a bit subjective.

MR. COOPER: Right, right! Like I said, it's all about the tastes of the time. Tastes, styles, inspiration. Who inspires you, son? Michelangelo? Da Vinci?

ALICE: [aside] Dali?

MR. COOPER: Maybe you're a Picasso guy? No one too freaky I hope!

CLAUDE: [He winces] N-no one brilliant. I just...paint what I love. Never been good at figuring out others' tastes, I guess.

MR. COOPER: What a pity! But luckily you're here. You're very valuable to have around. Without you, I'd daresay the bodies would miss you—

CLAUDE: E-excuse me?

MR. COOPER: But of course! In fact, you could say they'd just die without you! 

ALICE hides her head in her hand to stifle a groan as CLAUDE laughs nervously. MR. COOPER, too engrossed in himself, is fazed by neither 

MR. COOPER: Ah, speaking of the bodies, I'd best go check on them before we close up. Make sure they're still ready for the embalming tomorrow.

He leaves through the morgue door.

ALICE turns to face CLAUDE who has gone back to fiddling with the pens. Her expression is unreadable.

ALICE: So what have you been doing this whole time?

CLAUDE: Oh, you know, just tidying up here, making sure everything's in order. Assistant stuff.

ALICE: Uh-huh. [She glances behind the desk.] And do you do all of your "assistant stuff" with your fly down? [CLAUDE drops the pen and quickly zips up his pants. Silence falls between them and ALICE leans over onto the desk.] So who have you been doing this whole time? Hmm? Those girls in the morgue?

CLAUDE: [Eyes wide and pulling away from her] What the hell, Alice—

ALICE: Oh Jesus, Claude, don't look so freaked out. Should I get your smelling salts or something? I'm teasing with you. Dead girls? Come one. You're a bit kooky for sure, but seriously, dead girls?

CLAUDE: Yeah, that would be...nasty.

ALICE: And didn't that windbag just say we should find the humor in all this? Have a good laugh or two? Enjoy ourselves? [She smiles. CLAUDE nods and grins with her.] All this death business, it gets tiring after a while. Sometimes, you just want a reminder that you're alive, y'know? Get out, have a few drinks, see what happens...

CLAUDE: I guess.

ALICE: [Leaning in close] Besides, between you and me, I'm much more fun than some stiff and can be twice as 'nasty', if you ever want to find out.

CLAUDE: Uhm, thanks, Alice, but—

Enter Mr. Cooper from the morgue.

MR. COOPER: Right, everything does seem in order back there, a good end to a good day. One thing did seem odd, though. The bodies smelled funny.

ALICE: [Pulls away from CLAUDE and clears her throat.] Of course they smelled funny. They're dead.

MR. COOPER: Now, now, don't be smart with me. I know how bodies normally smell and that was definitely not normal. There was a sort of...musky scent to them, I'd dare say.

ALICE: Musky? Like the perfume we use on the bodies?

MR. COOPER: A bit heavier than that, I'd say. [ALICE glances between MR. COOPER and CLAUDE.] More heady, more potent, more--

ALICE: Virile?

MR. COOPER: An odd choice of words, but yes, yes, you could say that.

A pause. ALICE silently turns to CLAUDE, who has gone completely silent and still.

ALICE: [To MR. COOPER] I wouldn't give it too much thought, sir. Perhaps it's Claude's new cologne? He had gone in there earlier to prep for tomorrow's embalming, after all.

MR. COOPER: Yes, well, thank you, Claude. Very proactive of you. Anyway, I'd best get going. Marilyn has a roast on the stove and she hates it when I'm late. You both are free to go whenever you'd like, just close up before you do.

He leaves. End scene.

Scene 2

The start-up of a car engine sounds offstage. ALICE turns to the door but does not move away from the desk. CLAUDE picks up the pen, toying with it, and watches her every move.

ALICE: He hasn't left yet. He's probably calling his wife to tell her he'll be on his way.

CLAUDE: Probably.

ALICE: I should tell him. I should rat you out.

CLAUDE: [Clicks the pen with a nervous laugh] Come on, Alice, what are you even talking about—

ALICE: [Rounding on CLAUDE] You're having sex with those bodies, aren't you?

CLAUDE: I...I don't know what you're talking about.

ALICE: Oh bullshit! That buffoon might not be able to put two and two together, but I can. I'm not stupid. You had sex with them while we were out, didn't you?

CLAUDE: Alice—

ALICE: Didn't you?

CLAUDE: [Looks away] ...Please don't tell Cooper.

ALICE: O-oh God, you did. You really did.

CLAUDE: Alice—

ALICE: I thought maybe, just maybe, I was wrong. Ugh, to think I asked you—God!

CLAUDE: Alice, please, don't tell Cooper. I really need this job.

ALICE: Why, so you can keep getting your freak on? Is that it?

CLAUDE: I'm not a—

ALICE: And what about my job? [Slightly panicked] If he finds out that I know about you, I'll be screwed thanks to you and your—your fucking freak fetish!

CLAUDE: [Tensing up] Would you stop with the freak shit?

ALICE: Oh I'm so sorry. [She laughs and moves toward him] Am I hurting your feelings, freak?

CLAUDE: I mean it, Alice!

ALICE: Well you better believe that I mean it when I say go cry to your corpse brides if your feelings are hurt, 'cause what you did was dehumanizing--

CLAUDE: They're not human, they're dead!

ALICE: [shouting over him] —disgusting—

CLAUDE: And everything you do in bed is squeaky clean?

ALICE: —and just damn wrong, Claude! You're wrong!

[CLAUDE grips the pen tighter and his hands are balled into fists]

You are a weird, gross, repulsive, immoral, obscene little corpse-fucking freak!

CLAUDE: [Slamming his fists against the desk and leaning over, screaming in her face] I am NOT a freak!

Silence. CLAUDE, breathing heavily, stares down ALICE who has recoiled in shock. Offstage, the sound of a car pulling out of the parking lot and driving off sounds. ALICE glances at the front door. CLAUDE continues to watch her, his face breaking out into a manic grin.

CLAUDE: Looks like you're alone with the freak, Alice.

ALICE: I'll call the cops.

CLAUDE: With what? [He snatches her purse before she can reach it and takes out her phone.] This?

ALICE: Give me the phone, Claude.

CLAUDE: Oh, Alice, that would be just crazy of me! [He slams the phone into the desk repeatedly before dropping it on the ground and stepping on it.] All alone now.

ALICE: Look, I'm...I'm sorry about the freak thing, okay? [She glances at the door and makes to run for it. CLAUDE runs from behind the desk grabs her arm. She swings at him and he kicks her.] Let me go!

CLAUDE: I'd be mad to do that.

ALICE: I'll scream! I'll scream and they'll come! Someone will come and then they'll lock your freak ass up for good!

CLAUDE hits her with the back of his hand holding the pen. ALICE starts screaming. CLAUDE panics, clicks the pen open, and stabs her repeatedly in the throat. He drops the pen. Her screams die down as she slumps against him. CLAUDE looks around the empty funeral parlor and then back at her before picking her up bridal-style and carrying her into the morgue.

End Scene

Scene 3

The lights come up on an empty stage save for an operating table in the center. On the table lies ALICE with her hands at her side and her white blouse and dark skirt stained red. She is dead. Her legs are shoved apart and dangle off the table so that her hips are even with the table's edge. CLAUDE stands against the edge of the table, before her splayed legs. His belt is off and around ALICE's neck, covering the stab wound. They are in the morgue.

CLAUDE: Do you like the painting I made you, Alice? I really think the red adds a nice contrast to the white of your blouse. It just really makes the lace pop, don't you think? Oh, I'm sorry. I know my tastes don't always match up with everyone else's. I am a freak after all. Silly me, I'd almost forgotten.

[He pushes her skirt up her hips and pulls her stockings down.]

I'm sorry, too. About earlier. When you said you were more fun than a stiff?

[He unzips his pants.]

I'm sorry I had to turn you down, then. I really didn't think you were my type. Now, though?

[He grabs her hips and thrusts forward with a moan.]

Now I think you're drop dead gorgeous.

Lights go out as CLAUDE cackles and continues to have sex with ALICE's corpse. 

End scene.