Page 1 - Ember

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2.
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Lights rise on a cold bare stage,
suggesting a graveyard on an early
wintry morning. FRANK enters. He
carries a rectangular wrapped package
and sings, loudly.

FRANK
(to the tune of “Good King
Wenceslas”)
Good King Wendel’s ass stuck out,
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on the feast of Stephen,
while he ate his chicken wings,
deep and crisp and even.
Brightly shown her tits that night,
the-lady he was screwin’” -

He stops, grins, and points at HER.

- ha, ha! Gotcha. You smacked me in the face first time I
sang that song.
(mocking her voice)
“Frank! Not in church!”
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(smacks himself)
I don’t do that anymore, I’ll have you know. Just singin’ it
now. So. Ha.

He sets the wrapped package down on the
ground beside him. He holds out his
arms.

Merry Christmas, babe.

He addresses HIM.
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And to you, Mr. Man.

Pause.

Christmas. Already. Crazy, right?

He points to the wrapped package.

Got your present. Right here.

Pause.
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I shouldn’t have sang the song, that was dumb, that was ...
sorry. Mr. Man, you shouldn’t have heard that. Sorry.
Sorry. I don’t know why I came in that way, that was just
... I’m nervous, you know? I was afraid you might not wanna
see me.

He stares, hard, at HER.

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