The Special Day: A Play

Cubicles, chairs, lives wasted making other people rich. A completely normal office.

Dancing arrives at work to a seemingly empty office. When he turns on the lights, everybody leaps out in a surprise attack of balloons and party poppers. Queen is their leader.

QUEEN: Happy birthday!

DANCING: It’s not my birthday.

QUEEN: Merry Christmas?

DANCING: It’s not Christmas.

QUEEN: Easter?

DANCING: No.

QUEEN: I know it’s some sort of special day.

DANCING: It’s the first anniversary of my wife’s death.

QUEEN: That was it! Happy anniversary!

DANCING: Of my wife’s death?

QUEEN: We made you a cake!

DANCING: It says Happy Birthday Merry Christmas Easter Dead Wife.

QUEEN: Jenny was still decorating it when we started talking.

DANCING: It’s not even a cake. It’s just a loaf of bread with icing on it.

QUEEN: Well, we sort of forgot to get a cake, and this was all we could find at the last minute. But what’s the difference, really? Cake’s basically just fancy bread.

DANCING: I don’t think that’s right, but I don’t know enough about baking to argue.

QUEEN: There you go then.

DANCING: So, in short, you’ve ruined a loaf of bread in celebration of my wife’s death.

QUEEN: That is what we’ve done, isn’t it?

DANCING: Yes.

There is a long pause.

QUEEN: I don’t really like to mention this next bit, but it’s too late to stop it happening now so I don’t have a choice. You see, Carl was sure there was something to do with your wife, but none of us could remember exactly what, so we sort of, well, we hired a stripper to dress as your dead wife. And then undress as your dead wife. To the song you danced to on your wedding day. And then played at her funeral while you cried….

There is another long pause.

DANCING: Actually that sounds quite nice.

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