Suicides R Us

(This is another skit written for the improv group I was involve with, in school. The performers were male, so the dialogue is written in the masculine- however, the gender of the characters was originally imagined as being female, and ultimately unimportant. Alter he/sir to she/ma'am. Only the gender of the author was intended to remain fixed.)

1: Hello?
2: Greetings and welcome to Suicides R Us. My name is Two, UpRight. How may I kill you, today?
1: Well, I-
2: We're running a special on copycat celebrity suicides this week, with an additional ten percent off the mystery favorite of the day.
1: What if I-
2: We're also running a couples' discount for-
1: I'm not sure I want to do this, quite yet.
2: Three! We need a full work-up on this one!
3: Full work up, yes sir. If you'll just step over here, sir. Now, my name is Three, DownLeft. Can I please get your full name, for our records.
1: One, OnStage.
3: OnStage, can you spell that for me, please?
1: O-N-S-T-A-G-E, OnStage.
3: 's not a spelling bee, but thank you for repeating it.
1: I'm sorry, I-
3: Now, Mr. OnStage, would you be so kind as to tell me your date of birth?
1: October 2nd, 2004.
3: Funny. That's my birthday.
1: Well, that is when she finished the skit, so I'd imagine that all our birthdays are on the second of October.
3: Really? Mr. UpRight!
2: Yes, Three?
3: When's your birthday?
2: October 2nd, of course. Really man, do you think that we existed before she wrote us down?
3: Well, there's no reason to get uptight about it.
2: UpRight, you fool. Anyone can see that I am UpRight, and you DownLeft.
3: So what's his deal?
1: I'm OnStage.
3: Oh.
2: Quite right-
3: So the new kid, Four, BackStage-
2: If you don't mind, I'm sure this gentleman would like to decide whether to live or die, sometime today.
3: Of course, sir. Sorry, sir.
1: 's quite alright.
3: Now then, what recent events brought you to us, today?
1: Funny you should ask because, to be honest, I'm not sure there were recent events.
3: How's that?
1; Well, before I walk on in the beginning, I don't even exist as a person-
3: Then why are you here?
1: She wrote me entering.
3: Yes, but if you have no recent events that would bring you here, then why come at all?
1: Well, I only exist within the confines of her text. If I was to refuse to enter, I would never exist.
3: But we deal in death, here-
2: Suicides, DownLeft.
3: My apologies, Mr. UpRight. Suicides, specifically. Why bother to walk onstage at all, if you've been written to die?
1: Well, I don't know how the script ends. I'm rather hoping she decided to give me a happy ending.
(2 and 3 laugh)
3: A happy ending? Have you met our author?
1: Well-
2: The best ending you can hope for is a painless one, Mr. OnStage.
1: Now wait a minute- do you two know something more about the script than I do?
3: Well, Two? Do you have any answers?
2: Sorry- she didn't write answers into any of us.
1: Maybe there'll be more characters, shortly.
2: A "deus ex machina" set up, you mean? She doesn't deal in foreshadowed salvations, I'm afraid.
1: But I just foreshadowed!
3: No, actually, you "wished for," making a direct reference to a later arrival you would like to see. Foreshadowing, on the other hand, is a very subtle, crafty technique employed by authors, not characters, to hint at a later development through indirect character statements and onstage settings.
1: Oh.
2: Well done, Three.
3: Thank you, sir.
1: So I'm doomed?
3: 'fraid so, sir.
1: But when?
3: Whenever you wish.
1: How?
2: In whatever manner you choose.
1: Why would she write me this way?
3: These are all very good questions, sir- healthy, natural questions that anyone would ask in such a situation.
1: What's the point of any of this if she's only written me to die? Why even bother?
3: That's where we come in, sir.
2: Quite right.
1: You both seem awfully chipper about all of this.
3: We've found that maintaining a positive attitude at work sets a strong contrast for our clients.
2: Especially those who aren't sure, yet.
1: Oh.
3: So which method do you prefer, sir?
1: Method?
3: Of suicide. We have a rather impressive variety ranging from quiet slumbers to bloody, ghastly horrors-
1: Do people really opt for the horrors?
3: Some feel that if they can't make a mark living, they can at least leave a mess dying.
1: 's a certain logic to that, isn't there?
3: Of a sort. Shall I list the horrors we,re offering at the moment, then? Keep in mind that if you don't like anything we have on-hand, we also take special orders to be fulfilled upon arrival of the material, provided you leave a deposit and arrange for a payment plan. However, if you were to find a reason to live before the set date, we would have to keep your deposit.
1: How often does that happen?
3: What would you say, Two? Two or three time a year?
2: Hasn't happened at all, this year. We've had a few incompletes, but no one's backed out entirely.
1: I see.
3: So is there anything you'd like to see, sir?
1: What are the quieter methods? If you don't mind.
3: Of course, sir. Our number one request, especially among the ladies, is prescription sleeping pills- pop forty to sixty of these puppies and you'll be free in no time.
1: Free from what, exactly?
3: Your wasted life, of course.
1: Was it wasted?
3: Well, you are here, sir.
1: Ah.
3: Our second category is gases, sir.
1: Gases, you say?
3: Yes, sir. We offer an interesting assortment of gases from the natural gases in old-style ovens to the carbon monoxide produced in defective heating units, to basic helium used for balloons. Between you and me, the gases are generally more reliable than the pills.
1: Really?
3: Oh, certainly. Tried the pills myself, once. After you've decided to die, there's no sense of failure more complete than waking up.
1: You woke up?!?! They're sleeping pills, how-
3: They aggravated my ulcer.
1: Ah. Of course.
3: Would you like to try the gases, then?
1: I'm still not sure I want to-
3: Sir, your life is obviously no longer worth living. In fact, given the shallow brevity of your existence, I would daresay it was never worth living, and that our author did in fact waste her own precious time bringing you into this world.
1: You'd better watch yourself, sir. My life may not be much, as it is, but as a supporting character, your entire existence is based on my desire to end this life you so flippantly denigrate.
2: He's got you on that one, Three.
3: When did we establish that he was the main character?
1: I am the only character allowed to roam the stage. And it's my line that breaks the stasis, thus initiating the entirety of our existence.
2: Ruffles the feathers, doesn't it, Three?
3: A bit, sir.
1: Come now, it's nothing to be upset about. Apparently being the main character requires an indecisive death wish, which is not the most becoming characteristic a person like myself cares to sport.
2: True. Very well, then, Mr. OnStage, you are indeed the main character.
3: Congratulations. Are you ready to die, now?
1: Yes, I believe that I am.
3: And have you decided upon a method, or would you-
1: I'd like a gun, please.
3: We have another minor horror, Mr. UpRight. Do you have a preference as to which type of gun you'd like, sir?
1: I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the different types. Could you-
3: Would you like an open casket funeral?
1: Oh. I hadn't really thought of that.
3: And now that you have?
1: I'd rather be cremated.
3: Very good, sir. For those concerned with the appearance of their corpse, we often recommend a smaller weapon, despite the increased possibility of failure. But in your case, we have several rather large guns that cannot help but succeed.
1: Does the size of the weapon increase the pain?
3: Honestly, we aren't quite sure. The down side to such an effective weapon is that we never get client feedback.
1: Of course. Well, I suppose the largest will do nicely, then.
3: Very good, sir. Shall we set the rental for an hour, or do you believe you'll need some time for contemplation?
1: Just a few minutes should be quite enough, I think.
3: We only rent in hourly increments, sir. That often ensures that everyone has the time to get home and settled, before they go.
1: Home? Aren't there rooms in the back for this sort of thing?
3: You want to do it here, you say?
1: Of course. I live alone- I'd rather not die so, if it can be helped.
3: I'm afraid we do not offer companionship, sir.
1: Can't I pay extra?
3: Mr. UpRight, Mr. OnStage wants to add a hand-holder at extra charge- can we do that?
2: I'm sorry, Mr. OnStage, but that's against our policy.
3: Sorry, sir. Do you have a friend you can call?
1: If I had one of those, I wouldn't be standing here discussing the details of my death with a complete stranger now, would I?
3: I suppose not, sir.
2: She really did write you in a rather sickly way, didn't she?
1: It would seem so.
2: Worse comes to worst, Three and I have each other, at least. Some poorly developed, previously existing, if un-experienced relationship to anchor us in the world-
1: She did write several good friends into my background, I think. But she must've forgotten to endow me with the strength and will necessary for either trust or intimacy.
3: She forgot. I'm sure that's it, isn't it, Two?
2: Oh, of course. She forgets a lot, that one.
1: Maybe she'll forget to have me kill myself.
3: Wouldn't be very therapeutic for her, now, would it? Or profitable for us? Or even entertaining for those watching? You know, you might try thinking a little beyond yourself, on occasion.
2: Three's got a point, you know.
1: Are these my why's? One, OnStage is written to kill himself for the benefit of an author who brought him into such a miserable existence in the first place, a couple of two-dimensional characters who would never have existed if not to aid this pointless exercise, and a group of people he cannot even directly acknowledge, and yet for whom his death is to provide a few laughs before they return to their own skits?
3: Yeah. Seems that way.
1: Fine. I'll bet she doesn't even have that many meanings.
3: (hands weapon over) Here you go, sir: one sawed-off shotgun for the next hour. Have a pleasant death, sir. And do come back, if anything should go wrong.
1: Most kind.
2: Best of luck, sir.
1: Good night, gentlemen.
(1 exits with the weapon- not to be fired in performance)
3: Hey, Two.
2: Yes, Three?
3: How long do you think we'll have to sit here before she gets sick of us, now that she's destroyed her main character?
2: Nervous?
3: No. Well, maybe a little. Does disappearing hurt, do you think?
2: No more than this, I'd imagine.
3: Do you think we'll know?
2: Not exactly. I imagine we'll just dissolve into our actors without even realizing it.
3: Why won't they keep us?
2: Would you want two immobilized catalysts running your life?
3: No, I suppose not.
2: Then, there you go.
(pause)
3: So, do you think Four's bitter about being BackStage?
4: (from backstage) I thank my lucky stars, and She-That-Wrote-Me, every second of my nonexistent existence for being spared a trip through your hall of horrors, you two-dimensional hacks.
2: There you have it.
3: Lucky bastard. Well, it's been an existence, Two.
2: So it has. Better luck, next time, Three.
3: And to you.