SCENE 1:
(An Edwardian steampunk world - submarines & corsets. Felix, carrying flowers, approaches a coffin that sticks out from behind a curtain. As many people as possible mill about in black. As he walks, we hear his recorded voice)
FELIX RECORDED: Felix van Doren had attended many failed funerals in his time, but this was undoubtedly the worst.
(One of the figures, hooded, grabs the flowers out of his grasp)
FELIX: Hey, those are for-
MAREN: You shouldn’t have.
FELIX: (Recognizing her) Bloody hell-
(He looks around to see if anyone has noticed them. No one has. She holds out her hand. He kisses it.)
MAREN: I have a job for you.
FELIX: Yes?
MAREN: In one word? Zombies.
(Lights down/up. The stage is bare.)
(Felix and Maren enter, mid-conversation)
FELIX: Pay me two thousand pounds, and you had better explain about the zombies Maren.
MAREN: One hundred, I did, and you will call me Your Majesty.
(Still walking, she takes off her cloak and throws it at him).
FELIX: Fifteen hundred- so we’re talking about un-dead brain eaters… Your Majesty?
MAREN: Three hundred- more or less, and that’s better.
FELIX: Twelve hundred- dangerous?
MAREN: Three-fifty. Definitely.
FELIX: Two thousand.
MAREN: (Stopping) You’re kidding.
FELIX: Fine; five-hundred, a shotgun, and I get to call you Maren.
MAREN: Deal.
FELIX: So… why did you fake your own death?
MAREN: So I can stage a resurrection later and save the country from my incompetent successor. Resurrections make one so popular with the common people I’m told.
FELIX: You could assign a regent…
MAREN: Yes, but this is cheaper, and…
FELIX: And you have an ulterior motive that you will insist on keeping from me until some eleventh hour situation in which you will be forced to reveal it; a situation that could be avoided if you were to simply tell me now.
MAREN: More or less.
FELIX: You know, I hate you.
MAREN: No you don’t. You came to the funeral, didn’t you? I knew you’d come.
FELIX: You shouldn’t get my hopes up like that- I thought you were dead.
(Maren shrugs, walks)
FELIX: Where are you going?
MAREN: Hispaniola
FELIX: To fight zombies?
MAREN: More or less. Coming?
FELIX: Isn’t it rude to leave in the middle of your own funeral?
MAREN: I don’t think any etiquette has been established on the subject.
(Felix makes his decision - he follows)
FELIX: So… who’s in the coffin?
Points: 11482
Reviews: 351
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