Play: Funeral Parlor
Author: Christopher Durang
Age: 30 – 50
Source: Christopher Durang Volume I: 27 Short Plays
Susan, I’m so sorry. Death is always a shock. You’re sitting at home doing nothing, and then suddenly death goes “BOO!’, and someone falls down dead. What were his last words? Were they “BOO”? Did he make any noises? Guttural sorts of noises? Or high-pitched-shrieking ones? Eeeeeek! Eeeeeeek! Awooooga! Awooooooga!
Oh, Susan, you poor thing. All alone in the house now. Alone in the kitchen. Alone in the dining room. Alone in the living room – living room, that’s a mocking phrase now, isn’t it? Alone, alone, alone.
You have to mourn, Susan. I always thought the Irish were right to do all that keening. Do you want to keen, Susan? How about singing a spiritual? SWING LOW SWEET CHARIOT, COMING FOR TO… Susan, you are avoiding the sadness, I can’t let you do that.
We’re going to miss him on the commuter train. We use to exchange morning pleasantries. You know your husband was the only person on that whole damn train who was even willing to speak to me. The other people would get panic in their eyes if I even started to walk in their direction.
Your husband, though, was always very friendly to me. Not like my father. Nowadays my father won’t even return my phone calls. Well he’s dead, but I have this medium friend who gave me this special 800 number that lets you call the dead. Maybe you’d like the number to try to reach your husband on the other side.
Are you leaving?