by Anne Yumi Kobori

 

(Scene: Pristine white room eerily reminiscent of a minimalist hotel lobby. No windows. On the left wall hangs a painting of fluffy white clouds; under it the inscription “There’s No Place Like Heaven.” A white couch, white table, and white chair adorn the center of the room. Stage right is a white receptionist’s desk complete with white bell pull. On the desk is a large white bowl full of raisins.)

(Enter Elizabeth, a 17 year old girl in tight black halter, jean miniskirt, and stilettos.)

Elizabeth: ‘Scuse me? Is anyone here? (she searches room thoroughly) Hello? HELLO!! Huh. You’d think they’d at least send someone to meet me after I walked up all those stairs. (she notices bellpull.) “Please ring for service.” Right. (she pulls bellpull.)

(Juliano, a gay angel, pops up from behind receptionist desk.)

Juliano: Hey sweetie, you checking in?

Elizabeth: We have to check in? I didn’t exactly bring my ID…

Juliano: (sighs, pulls out Bible.) Okay, sweetie, you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth, so help you God?

Elizabeth: Sure.

Juliano: Good. (tosses Bible over shoulder and grabs scroll. ) What’s your name?

Elizabeth: Lizzie. Um, it’s probably listed as Elizabeth.

Juliano: (scanning list) Ah. Elizabeth the First, Queen of England-

Elizabeth: What? No!

Juliano: All right, sweetie, calm down. Mmm….Elizabeth…..Elizabeth…..Emily Bronte …Evita….Elizabeth! Elizabeth Cady Stanton, suffragette-

Elizabeth: Nope.

Juliano: Umm……Elizabeth Barret Browning, Sonnets from the Portugese-

Elizabeth: No.

Juliano: Elizabeth Taylor!

Elizabeth: How about the 21^st century?

Juliano: Elizabeth, accidentally pushed off the Grand Canyon-

Elizabeth: Never been.

Juliano: Elizabeth, slipped off a balance beam-

Elizabeth: Ouch. I mean, no.

Juliano: Elizabeth, choked on a carrot-

Elizabeth: NO!

Juliano: Elizabeth, took a bullet for her friend-

Elizabeth: Yes!

Juliano: Thank God! Now let me get your wings…(he rummages in a white box behind the counter)

Elizabeth: Why don’t you guys upgrade to a computer system?

Juliano: Can’t. All the rich corporate owners go to Hell, and we mostly get poor martyrs. What size are you, sweetie?

Elizabeth: I dunno. Medium?

Juliano: (brandishing pair of feathery white wings) Try these. (she pulls straps over her arms.) Fierce. Okay sweetie, you’re totally set. Now, here’s your room key – oh, and your complimentary raisins. (he pushes the white bowl of raisins toward her.)

Elizabeth: Raisins? What about the 72 virgins?

Juliano: Misinterpretation of Holy Scriptures.

Elizabeth: I don’t even like raisins.

Juliano: Not much I can do about it. Wait here for a minute; God wants to talk to you.

Elizabeth: God? The God?

Juliano: Obviously. Later! (he disappears behind desk)

Elizabeth: Wow. This sucks. Not even any hot male virgins to pass the time with.

(Enter God, a middle-aged woman wearing a floor-length white dress.)

God: Elizabeth?

Elizabeth: It’s Lizzie.

God: Lizzie. Yes. So, what do you-

Elizabeth: Sorry, uh, God, but will there be any better decoration in my room? I mean, this white stuff is nice but it’s not too interesting to look at, and if I’m gonna be here for eternity…

God: The majority of the deceased believe reflection to be preferable to decoration.

Elizabeth: Reflection? Fuck reflection!

(God glares.)

Elizabeth: Oh, yeah, no cussing in Heaven, right?

God: Unless you want your privileges revoked.

Elizabeth: Uh huh. So, is it usually this empty?

God: Most are off doing good deeds for the benefit of man and womankind.

Elizabeth: Oh, Jesus.

(Bearded, robed man pokes his head in room)

Jesus: Someone called?

God: Nevermind, son. False alarm.

Jesus: Actually, Mom, I have been wanting to talk to you about my image…

God: Jesus, this isn’t really a good time-

Jesus: You never have time for me! Your own son!

God: All people are God’s children.

Jesus: You always do that! Everyone else worships me but you treat me like a nobody!  God: Don’t take that tone with me, young man. Go to your room!

Jesus: I hate you! You’re ruining my life! (he storms off)

Elizabeth: (muttered) Sounds like somebody needs therapy.

God: (clears throat) So, Lizzie, the first step here in Heaven is contemplating your past actions on Earth.

Elizabeth: What am I supposed to do, see my life flash before my eyes and realize how lame it was?

God: If you wish. (pulls out remote control)

Elizabeth: Spare me.

God: Lizzie, I want you to tell me how you died.

Elizabeth: Isn’t God all-knowing?

God: Yes, but I think it will help you to vocalize your experience.

Elizabeth: I guess….ok. So, I don’t usually go to crazy parties – mostly I stay home practicing.

God: Practicing?

Elizabeth: I play piano. And sing. Anyway, my friends decided I needed to loosen up and chill out more, so they took me to this party. Loud music, drink, drugs…you know the drill.

God: (sharply) And did you partake?

Elizabeth: What has that got to do with anything?

God: (sighs) Nothing. Go on.

Elizabeth: So, this guy (disgust), I don’t even know who he was, but he was drunk, and he started hitting on me. Now, I don’t mind guys I don’t know talking to me, but when they’re drunk they just wanna get in your pants. (pause) Or skirt. Anyway, I told him to fuck off. Then he put his hands on me. And maybe I’m a little shy, but I don’t take crap from people. So when he started feelin’ up on me I slapped him. He got….violent. He grabbed me and started hitting me. And then Alex, my…..friend, he tried to pull this guty off me. There was this crazy mess and the guy pulled a gun, and…he was aiming for Alex but I got in the way.

God: On purpose?

Elizabeth: Yeah.

God: And do you have any regrets?

Elizabeth: No.

God: Lizzie…

Elizabeth: It’s none of your business.

God: Alex wasn’t just your friend, was he? You loved him.

 Elizabeth: Shut up!

God: Don’t deny the truth, Lizzie.

Elizabeth: Why does it matter? I’m dead, I’ll never see him again…even if I wanted to!

God: Do you want to?

Elizabeth: If I say yes, will you do something about it?

God: Such as?

Elizabeth: I don’t know! Just…send him a message, or something, let him know that I’m ok. That I’m waiting for him.

God: Sorry, but only senior angels can send personal messages.

Elizabeth: Don’t martyrs get preferential treatment?

God: Martyrs are fulfilled by their constant sacrifices for others and don’t expect preferential treatment.

Elizabeth: So, I died for him and all I get are a few raisins?

God: You get to be the guardian angel of the living.

Elizabeth: Where was my guardian angel?

God: Trying to stop global warming.

Elizabeth: It figures. You know, I think I’ve done my fair share of community service.

God: You said you were bored.

Elizabeth: Boredom has got to be better than watching everyone else live their lives.

God: Where would you rather be?

Elizabeth: I don’t know. (sudden inspiration) How’s the weather in Hell these days?

God: Hot.

Elizabeth: Like, Hawaii hot?

God: Like burning molten lava hot.

Elizabeth: Great. How do I get there?

God: Click your heels three times and say “there’s no place like Hell.”

Elizabeth: You serious? (God nods) Ok. Bye. (she clicks heels three times and says “There’s no place like Hell.”)

(Sudden blackout. Loud thunderclap. Elizabeth screams, giving impression she’s falling. Red lights up, mist.)

Elizabeth: Whew. It is pretty hot down here. (looks around) Does look more interesting, though.  (She walks through Hell, passes Sisyphus eternally pushing his boulder up the hill, Tantalus straining for his food and drink, etc. Stops by a young man chained to a tree.) Alex?

Alex: Lizzie? You don’t belong here.

Elizabeth: Neither do you!

Alex: (grimaces) Actually, I guess I do. When you ….died….I went after that guy. Started beating him up.

Elizabeth: Alex! You didn’t!

Alex: He was gonna get away with it! Soon as you were shot he started running! I had to do something.

Elizabeth: But how did you end up….here?

Alex: One of his friends got me with a knife. I guess revenge isn’t a good enough reason to get you into Heaven.

Elizabeth: No. Not with God being so uptight. (he gives her a look) Heaven was boring. That’s why I’m down here.

Alex: Well, its not exactly a party down here. (he studies her) Nice wings. I guess they cleaned up your wound for you?

Elizabeth: Yeah. Didn’t they…(comes closer, sees the red blood on his chest) Oh, Alex… (kneels down) Does it hurt?

Alex: Yeah. They left it until they figured out another way to torture me.

Elizabeth: (Reaching out) Do you mind? (he shakes his head, and she touches the wound.)

Alex: Holy Mother of-

Elizabeth: Shit! (they both stare at healed wound)

Alex: Guess angels have healing powers.

Elizabeth: Guess so. I wonder if I can undo your chains.

Alex: I dunno. Do you really want to free a sinner?

Elizabeth: Don’t present me with any moral quandaries right now. I’m going to get enough of that once I go back to Heaven. (she undoes his chains)

Alex: You’re going back? (at her glance, he laughs at himself) Wow. I’m a dumbass. Of course you’re going back. Who’d want to stay in this burning pit?

Elizabeth: Do you want me to go back?

Alex: Hey. You saved my life. I want you to be happy. You deserve to be in Heaven.

Elizabeth: That’s such a cliché.

Alex: (shrugs) It’s true.

Elizabeth: So, that’s the only reason you want me to be happy? Cause I saved your life?

Alex: No. But I don’t think God would approve if an angel was dating a guy condemned to eternal damnation.

Elizabeth: It’s got to be better than dating Jesus. He’s got major issues.

Alex: You’d have to stay here, though. I don’t think I get any free passes to Heaven.

Elizabeth: That’s ok. Maybe there are other people that don’t deserve to be here.

Alex: You’re gonna go around saving souls in Hell?

Elizabeth: Why not? Maybe then God will get off my case.

Alex: Just make sure you don’t free any mass murderers.

Elizabeth: I’ll try to restrain myself. (yells heavenward) Hey God, I’m doing good deed now, you happy? (raisin is thrown onstage)

Alex: What’s that?

Elizabeth: Misinterpretation of Holy Scriptures. (she takes his hand, and they walk offstage.)