Written by Joe Janes
244 of 365
Funeral Director, 50s
(Lights up on a funeral home. We hear organ music playing lightly in the background. A grieving family is gathered around the “casket” – four chairs lined up downstage. The minister is consoling the crying widow. Her daughter is to her side. Her grandmother stands next to her, sobbing with one hand on the coffin. The widow looks at her watch and looks over at the funeral director who shrugs slightly. Derek enters with a to go cup of coffee.)
I am so sorry.
(He finishes off the coffee and hands the empty to the funeral director.)
Really. You wouldn’t believe what I had to go through to get here.
(He kisses the grandmother on the cheek, touches the daughter on the shoulder, sheepishly shrugs to the widow.)
Well, I’m here, now. That’s the important thing, right?
(He straightens his tie and steps over the back of the “chairs” and into the coffin and lies down. Dead.)
I knew it. Late to his own funeral.