The Harvest

[Lights up.  A dungeon.  A masked executioner stands over a sacrificial martyr – his head on a block.]

Executioner: In darkness we meet, and in darkness shall we thrive.

Martyr: We are well met, in darkness.

Executioner: Your blood is the harvest.

Martyr: My blood is the harvest.

Together: This is good work. This is good work. (etc…)

[A chant of “Good work” “Good work” arises from the multitude. The executioner raises his blade.]

Executioner: This is good-

[The executioner’s cell phone rings. The company is silent.  After a few more rings, the executioner

answers, in a hushed tone.]

Executioner: Hello? Honey, I’m kind of in the middle of-  How long have you been waiting?  I thought we said midnight. Okay, fine.  Look, it’s going to take a bit more-.  Fine, okay, I’ll be down soon.  Soon! (Pause) I love you!

[Executioner puts his phone away, sheepish.]

Executioner: Where were we?

Martyr: Uh. My blood is the harvest?

Executioner: No, we did that part.

Martyr: Oh, right. Uh, oh! We were doing the final verse of the sacrificial chant.

Executioner: Right!

[Executioner raises his blade menacingly.]

Executioner: Shall we?

Ben: Let’s.

Together: This is good work. This is good work. (etc…)

[The executioner’s phone rings again.  A collective groan spreads through the multitude.]

Executioner: What?  Sorry.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to-

Martyr: That wasn’t even five minutes.

Executioner: No, I’m on the elevator.  I’m by the elevators, I mean.  Almost down.  Soon.  Very soon.  I love you!

[Executioner hangs up, sighs.]

Executioner: What can you do?

Martyr: Tell me about it.

Executioner: It’s like she doesn’t even care about the harvest.

Martyr: Oh, don’t say that! I’m sure she cares, she’s just-

[The phone rings again.]

Together: (frustrated) Jesus!

[Executioner reaches for his phone, pulls it out, looks at it.]

Martyr: Not me.

[Martyr reaches in his pocket. Pulls out his cell phone.]

Martyr: Oh, it’s mine. (answers) Hi honey. No, I missed the first bus, so I have to catch the next one. No, I didn’t do it on purpose. But- No, we settled that yesterday, didn’t we? Look, can we talk about this when I get home? (sly wink to executioner) Lovies. Bye.

[Martyr begins texting. Executioner clears his throat.]

Martyr: Oh, Sorry I just want to send a quick text. Almost done. Aaaand…send!

[Martyr puts phone away.]

Together: This is good work. This is good work. (etc…)

[The chanting “Good work” begins again.  The executioner raises his blade. The phone rings again, and again, and again as we fade to black.]

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