“IF WE NEVER MEET AGAIN”
by OPOVV, ©2014
(Aug. 22, 2014) — Director reserves the discretion on the ratio of male/female and the different races represented by the angels.
ACT I
Curtain rises as a harp player, stage right, front, plays “In Christ Alone.” The stage is set as a 1950’s Sinclair gas station, pumps at left. There are about 20 actors and actresses lounging around, dressed in white robes with various-sized wings. An woman angel enters stage left, jumps on the hose that rings the bell (“Ding! Ding!”), stops at the pumps, takes a swig from one of the hoses, and joins the crowd in the gas station. Calls of “Look what the cat dragged in” and “Gossip time” are heard from the crowd.
“So, Sally, what’s the latest from planet earth?” asks one of the angels.
“It’s a nuthouse, that’s what it is. They have more in common with each other than they know, but act like a bunch of spoiled brats. They have the same air and oceans. Why, even the moon is big enough for all of them so the next thing on their ‘How Stupid are We?’ list will be some kind of restrictions on looking at it,” answered Sally, a matronly angel.
“I don’t quite get what the fuss is all about. How come they’re always killing one another?” asked an angel sitting on some cases of WD-30.
“I know the answer,” piped up an angel sitting atop the (non-rotating) ceiling fan. “It’s like this: human beings are fascinated with trivia. They make up make-believe scenarios and treat them as real as an earthquake or a volcano blowing its top.”
Choruses of “That’s right!” is heard.
One angel is heard saying, “Where are the vending machines? Why, I don’t even see a Slurpy machine.”
“Consider it a ‘slow recovery’” and “We’re trying to save,” are heard. Laughter follows. The angels break into chorus, singing “If the Lord Wasn’t Walking by My Side.”
Curtain lowers.
ACT II
Curtain rises on the area behind the gas station. We see oil drums and a few old cars up on blocks. The music is “Amazing Grace.” Harpist stage left, front. There are a few angels sitting around a little fire that’s burning on the ground. The back door opens, left, and a young-man-angel joins our little group.
“What’s the fire for? It’s not, like, cold or anything. Why, we can’t feel cold anyway,” says the young-man-angel.
One of the more mature angels responds, “It’s a symbol of all that mankind has achieved and this fire, here, represents the end result.”
“Here’s an example: killing aid workers. Beheading truck drivers delivering vaccines. Murdering folks who believe in the ‘Golden Rule.’ That’s what we’re talking about.”
“What do you mean, ‘Murdering people who believe in the Golden Rule? How’s that possible?” asked the young angel.
“Where’ve you been, boy? We’re talking ‘savages’ here. We’re talking about quasi-humans. True, they have the ability to steal and rape, but that’s the total extent of their relationship with the rest of mankind,” spoke yet another angel. “Have you ever noticed that’s no ‘Them’ up here?”
“Well, come to think of it, I haven’t. You mean they all go to, well, down there?”
“Just not the ones who were ‘honor-killed’. There may be a few others,” said yet another angel.
“Look, we’re getting off-track. The basic question was ‘Why this senseless self-destruction?’ What’s the point of it all?” says the more mature angel.
“Over-population; One. Too much ‘noise’: so called ‘news’; Two. Not enough education, or, to put it another way, not enough exposure to different philosophies and ways of looking at the world; Three. And, Four, not enough Golden Rule. At least that’s how I see it, and I served in Gaul with the Roman Legion,” stated an angel.
Choruses of “Well said” and “Aptly put” are heard, among a spattering of clapping. The angels start to sing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” as the curtain lowers.
ACT III
Curtain rises to the sound of “Silent Night.” Harpist is center, middle. The scene is the roof of the gas station. The Sinclair sign is at stage left. A foot or two from the roof are clouds represented by bags of cotton balls, although more elaborate productions may use dry ice to simulate the clouds, as if the gas station were above the earth. Our angel gang is found sitting on the parapet or on the various ducts and air conditioning units. As the harp music subsides, the angels sing “Joshua Fought the Battle of Jericho.”
“This killing of the Christians has got to stop. Now I know we’ve been given strict orders not to intervene, but something’s got to give. Any ideas?” asks a lady angel sitting on the parapet.
“Why don’t we smite them all? It’s not, like, anyone’s going to miss them,” stated the young-man-angel.
“Well, I really am reluctant to say this, but I have to agree with our impetuous young-man-angel. We’ve looked down upon this same broken record for 1,400 years, not as long as I’ve been up here, I might say, but all it’s been is watching these savages kill females and everyone else just because they can, which is nuts,” said our Roman soldier angel.
“The Big Boss would never allow it, that’s why we can’t do it,” said a matronly angel.
Cries of, “But we’ve got to do something!” are heard from all around the roof. We hear “Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!” as we see angels floating up from the clouds (rear parapet) and land on the roof. Calls of “Glad you could make it” and “Welcome aboard” are heard. The angels break into song, singing “Bosom of Abraham.”
“Okay! Nice singing, one and all. I think, by now, we all get the picture of what needs to be done. Now I know that some of you may be opposed to the use of nuclear weapons, but you’ve got to wipe out these nests of savages wherever they are; that’s all there is to it. It’s either that, or we’ll all be without a job, because all the humans will be dead. So, what do you say?” asks an older angel.
“As long as it’s worldwide, anything less wouldn’t get the job done. The humans have the resources, but they’ve the will? Yes, I see his point. This so-called ‘caliphate’ will be but the beginning-of-the-end for the human race. Yes, we must do something, and quickly, because humans can’t afford to wait another 1,400 years,” says one of the angels.
All the angels line up and face the audience and start to sign “If We Never Meet Again” as the curtain lowers. On the back of the playbill are the words to the song and the audience is encouraged to sing along.
Curtain lowers.
FINI