A SPACE-STAGE WITH A SPACE-PODIUM AND A SPACE-MEDIA CIRCUS.
NARRATOR: (VOICE-OVER) The bad news is that the end of the world was announced sometime last Friday.
The good news, however, is that the Libertonian Council for the Disbursement of Pretty Bad News somehow booked intergalactic sexual healer and fashionista, G’lp the Turgid One, to deliver the bad news.
G’LP, A SPACE-PERSON, ENTERS, TAKES THE SPACE-PODIUM.
G’LP: Citizens of Earth. We regret to inform you that we have been informed that you have violated the terms of your lease. As per your agreement, you have thirty days to vacate the premises, at the end of which, any persons or belongings will be skinned alive, then hurled into the sun.
That said. We are aware of humanity’s hilariously limited ability to evacuate the planet in a timely manner.
So. In the spirit of appealing to our public image, we are offering two cages in the Earth Memorial Exhibit of the Schlemiel and Schlimazel Space-Safari Experience.
To enter for a chance to win, simply be one of the last two humans left alive at the end of your thirty-day eviction period. And if a winner cannot be decided by the end of your thirty-day eviction period, we will simply skin all of you alive, then hurl you into the sun anyway.
Thank you. And remember to have fun out there.
A SMALL SHED CONVERTED INTO A CRAMPED OFFICE. JOHN JABOLONKSI SITS AT A TYPEWRITER AND A MICROPHONE, MAKES USE OF NEITHER.
NARRATOR: (VOICE-OVER) The announcement itself was broadcast across every major television network, radio station, and wi-fi enabled toaster and lotion dispenser on Earth.
Unfortunately, John Jablonksi, amateur professional and part-time amatuer…
JOHN: (WAVES TO AUDIENCE) Hello.
NARRATOR: (VOICE-OVER) …never heard this, as he was, at the time, pretending to work on his podcast in the half-converted storage shed he called his office.
JOHN: (TO AUDIENCE) Ignorance really is bliss.
NARRATOR: (VOICE-OVER) Fortunately, his wife, Jillian Jablonski, did.
A BATHROOM. JILLIAN JABLONSKI SITS ON THE TOILET, PHONE IN HAND, HEADPHONES ON HEAD, AND EYES SEIZED ON AN ELECTRIC TOOTHBRUSH.
NARRATOR: (VOICE-OVER) Jillian, as it turns out, happened to be sitting on the toilet, listening to a podcast about the mating rituals of serial killers or something, when a voice on her electric toothbrush told her it was the end of the world.
And as G’lp the Turgid One’s impressively heartless, yet utterly tactless speech played on an inexplicably commercial-laden loop, a million thoughts shot through Jillian’s head.
JILLIAN STARES AND BLINKS AT NOTHING IN PARTICULAR.
Would she and John survive this?
JILLIAN CONSIDERS THIS.
Where would they go?
JILLIAN PUZZLES THIS.
How many people must she kill?
A BEAT. THEN…
Anyway. At some point, Jillian reached for toilet paper…
JILLIAN REACHES FOR THE TOILET PAPER…
and found none.
JILLIAN, INDEED, FINDS NONE.
Then she reached for the spare rolls in the cabinet beneath the sink in front of her…
JILLIAN REACHES FOR SPARE ROLLS…
and found none there as well.
JILLIAN, AGAIN, FINDS NOTHING.
Finally, she recalled an especially heated argument with John this morning…
JILLIAN STARES AND BLINKS. AGAIN.
something about John’s repeated failure to restock the toilet paper and his needing to do so before he plays in his little shed.
JILLIAN SWELLS WITH SILENT, RAGING BLOODLUST.
JOHN’S SHED. JOHN, BLISSFULLY IGNORANT AND UNPRODUCTIVE.
NARRATOR: (VOICE-OVER) John, meanwhile, never knew of his wife’s admittedly petty grudge and subsequent raging bloodlust until he did.
JILLIAN ENTERS, BLUDGEONS JOHN WITH HIS OWN MICROPHONE.
JILLIAN: (TO AUDIENCE) Ignorance really is bliss.