An executioner's note (standard:humor, 823 words)
Author: Olygs	Added: Nov 14 2001	Views/Reads: 3260/2149	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Albert discusses with his uncle and father what he should write in his letter attempting to get an interview to be an executioner(in the form of a play).

An executioner’s note 

At the rise of the curtain, two large middle age men are sitting in
armchairs around a radio set on a small table; one is reading the 
paper. A big seventeen-year old boy walks nervously onstage, paper and 
pen in hand. The boy sneaks up to the table and surreptitiously puts 
his paper and pen down by the radio. 

Louis (man not reading paper, boys uncle): Did ya bring the firewood in
Alb? 

Albert: Pardon? 

[Louis leans forward and turns down radio] 

Louis: Did ya bring the firewood in Alb? 

Albert: Errr, err, no, no, I mean yes. 

[Pause] 

Thomas (boys father): Ooh, look! Purple Pumpkin won yesterday. 25:1odds.


Louis (not really interested): Really? 

[Albert makes as if to say something, then sits down on a stool and
picks up his pen.] 

Louis: What ya got there Alb? 

Albert: Nothing, err, well yeah, something. I was actually wandering if
you and dad could help me with it. 

Louis: Naaah. Me and your dad ain’t no good at that kinda thing. 

Albert: Well, its for a job interview. 

Thomas: Job interview? What kind? 

Albert: Well... you know you and Uncle Lu sometimes kinda, help out with
the justice system sometimes? 

[Louis and Thomas burst out laughing] 

Thomas: Oh right! You thought you’d have a go did ya Alb? 

Albert: Yeah. 

Louis: Okay then Alb, go for it. 

Thomas: No, wait, let’s think about this. You know what its like Lu,
let’s think about this. 

Louis: Tom, you and I have both done this hundreds of times. We’re
alright. And he’s a big boy now, he’ll be alright. Now, what you gonna 
write Alb? 

[Thomas goes to the edge of the stage, but as the conversation
progresses is slowly drawn in closer] 

Alb: ‘Dear Sirs’? 

Louis (laughing): ‘Dear sirs’? Hehe, ya want to be an executioner, not a
bloody secretary, don’t ya? Now remember, you’re an executioner. You’re 
big, you’re violent, you’re quiet. It’s not like you have time to blurt 
out your whole life story in the forty seconds you have between opening 
his cell door and pulling the lever. Try again. 

Albert: ‘To Ben’? 

Louis: Excellent! Excellent! Except he’s not called Ben, he’s called
Egbert, the bloke your writing to. Call him Eg. Go on. ‘To Eg.’ 

Thomas: For Christ’s sake man! Are you intent on messing this up for


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