Week 24, Day 165 - "The Death of Me"

“The Death of Me”
Written by Joe Janes
7/2/09
165 of 365

CAST
Larry Worthington, late 70s
Vanessa Bomblatt, 30s
Security Guard, 30s

(Lights up on Larry sitting in a chair. He is an older man. He is dressed in a loose fitting suit. He holds a beat up brief case on his lap. Vanessa sits at a nearby desk looking over papers. Off to the side near a door is a bank security guard. She occasionally glances at him, he notices and raises his eyebrows. She goes back to looking at the papers.)

VANESSA

Mr. Worthington?

LARRY

Yes?

VANESSA

How can I say this?

LARRY

I can help you there, Miss Bomblatt. You can just say “yes.” Hand me a check and I’ll be on my way.

VANESSA

I wish it were that simple.

LARRY

I have never asked for a loan my entire life.

VANESSA

Actually, you have, you just have never been granted one.

LARRY

That’s what I meant. You could be my first.

VANESSA

Mr. Worthington-

LARRY

Call me, Larry. Everybody calls me Larry. You say Mr. Worthington and I think you’re talking to my dad. And he’s dead.

VANESSA

Larry, banks tend to give people loans when they’re reasonably certain the person will be able to pay them back. You have nothing to secure the loan.

LARRY

I have my word. And we could shake on it.

VANESSA

Fine with me, but I’m afraid the bank would want something more. Don’t you have any collateral you could put against ten thousand dollars?

LARRY

I have the money in my checking account.

VANESSA (reading another paper)

Which is currently negative three dollars and forty-eight cents.

LARRY

Oh. The government must have deposited my monthly check.

VANESSA

You rent your room. You have no furniture or automobile. Don’t you own anything of value?

LARRY

I have books. Hardcover books. Real nice. Quite a collection. (He opens his briefcase and takes out a book.) Like this one.

VANESSA

I see. (Looks it over). This is a library book.

LARRY

Told you they were nice.

VANESSA

And they belong to the library.

LARRY

Technically, maybe. But I’ve had them a long time. There’s got to be a point where I’ve had them so long they’re mine. Some statue of limitations.

VANESSA

I wouldn’t know. Isn’t there some friend or relative-?

LARRY

Please, Miss Bomblatt. Vanessa. May I call you Vanessa?

VANESSA

Sure.

LARRY

I really need this money, Vanessa. As you can see, I’ve been around quite awhile. Longer than most of my friends and family. There’s no one for me to turn to.

VANESSA

Run it by me in more detail. You need the money to build a marker.

LARRY

To build a monument.

VANESSA

A monument. Commemorating what?

LARRY

Lawrence Worthington.

VANESSA

You.

LARRY

That is correct.

VANESSA

Most people who have had monuments built honoring themselves, Larry, didn’t build it themselves. Other people did. To honor them for their contributions to society.

LARRY

There must be some people who did.

VANESSA

Perhaps, but I’ll wager they were stinking rich enough to pay for it out of their own pocket.

LARRY

Well, like you said, I don’t own anything of value. I couldn’t afford a monument made out of Cheetohs.

VANESSA

You don’t have anything of material value. You seem like a decent man. You have a nice smile.

LARRY

And that will be gone when I die. (She looks at him concerned.) Whenever that is.

VANESSA

I’m sorry, Larry. I just can’t help you. Hey, what about a gravestone? When you pass on, let your gravestone be your monument.

LARRY (Standing)

Who the hell visits graveyards? I sure don’t. And I don’t know anyone who’d be swinging by my pile of dirt. I never married. I don’t have any kids. I just wanted a little monument. A simple statue of me to put in a park somewhere. Something to tell people I was here. That in all the history of time, I was here, on this spot, for a little while. And you know what I’d have written on the base of that statue?

VANESSA

What?

LARRY (waving)

Hi. Just something to say, “Hi, I was here.” And “hey, you’re here now. And you’re taking a moment to read this and know that I was once alive. Like you. Aren’t we something?” (Waves) Hi.

VANESSA (touched, but…)

I’m sorry, Larry.

LARRY

I tried.

(He gathers his things and heads towards the door. The security guard opens it for him. He exits. Lights shift and we hear the screeching of tires. Larry drops his briefcase and holds up one hand. The security guard steps forward and addresses the audience.)

SECURITY GUARD

Larry stepped out into the street not noticing the quickly setting asphalt he stepped in or the cement truck heading his way careening out of control. He got the monument he wanted. And every morning as Vanessa Bomblatt comes in to work, she stops by and she says, “Hi.” (He starts to walk away and then comes back) Five years from now, this bank branch will close due to financial turmoil caused by Vanessa’s excessive embezzling siphoning off retirement funds. She’s sent to prison where she is shived while working in the prison library. This building is bought by a real estate developer who bulldozes the whole block and flattens everything, even Larry. Larry’s still waving, up through a sewage grate into an abandoned half-finished hip-eco-overpriced-condo project. (He walks away and comes back). Oh, I quit my job as a security guard to devote my life to my passion, playing the jazz lute. I tour the world and am the highest paid jazz lute player ever. I make as much as I made working here. See? Happy ending. Until I died in a plane crash over a swamp. (He shrugs. Blackout.)