HEAVEN ONLY KNOWS
(a scene in one act by Wendell Ricketts)
© Wendell Ricketts, 1997, 2003. All rights reserved.Diana: Goodness, it’s bright here, isn’t it? Oh, sod everything! Those are fluorescent bulbs. I photograph terribly in this light!(Heaven. The anteroom. Midday. Enter Mother Theresa & Lady Diana Spencer. They look around, evidently confused.)Mother Theresa: Vanity is a deadly sin, my child.
Diana: Well, I jolly well don’t need to worry about that now, do I? Besides, you’ve looked like a little Albanian raisin for years! I’m wearing a bloody Catherine Walker.
Mother Theresa: In more ways than one. (Diana glowers at her.)
Versace: Mamma! I am so honored to meet you. But you are in heaven now! Why not remove the blue-and-white dishtowel? For you I could whip up something—Ah! (kisses the tips of his fingers loudly) Così bella! And Your Highness! Is that a Walker gown you are wearing so charmingly? (Diana shoots Mother Theresa a triumphant look.)(Enter Gianni Versace and Dorothy Parker, the welcoming committee.)Mother Theresa: Watch it, sonny. I can arrange for you to spend eternity designing dresses for Malcolm Forbes and J. Edgar Hoover. (Frostily.) And now, if you will all excuse me, I must telephone the Pope. If he doesn’t close this sainthood deal soon, I’m going to have no choice but to start appearing to Benjamin Netanyahu. (To Versace.) Hey, you, nancy-boy, you speak Italian. Come help me get a line to Rome. (They exit.)
Diana: I don’t know what came over me earlier. It must have been the shock. I didn’t mean to offend her.
Parker: She’ll live. (Madly.) Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! (Recovering herself.) Uh ... I don’t suppose you’ve got a martini on you?
Emily Dickinson: (Entering stage right, gliding across to the exit opposite. She repeats over and over.) I heard a fly buzz when I died....
Diana: Oh dear. Is she ill?
Parker: Naw. She’s harmless, poor old girl. She went off the deep end after that jealous queen, Walt Whitman, told her that people back on earth are singing her poems to the tune of “The Yellow Rose of Texas.”
Diana: (Running for cover.) My word!(From offstage, a deafening chorus of deep, male voices. Delirious shouts, cheers, & screams of pain are heard, as well as the occasional “¡Olé!”)Parker: Don’t worry. They won’t come this way. That’s just Ernest. He and Jack Kerouac, Ring Lardner, Franco, and a bunch of the other butch boys, they hold the “Running of the Bulls” every afternoon right around this time.
Mother Theresa: (Rushing back on stage. Eagerly.) It sounds as though someone is agony, perhaps even dying. They may need our help!
Parker: Oh well, sure they’re dying. But it never sticks. That’s the great thing about heaven. You bounce right back. Oh look! There goes Jackie! Oh, Jackie! (To Diana.) You’ve simply got to meet her. You and she have a lot in common—old, hairy Mediterranean guys with big ... yachts, for one thing! (More manic laughter.) Jackie! Over here!
Diana: Egyptian. Dodi was Egyptian.
Parker: Whatever. Oh, darn. There she goes. She’s doing one of her little reenactments this weekend and I wanted her to invite you. “Dallas My Way,” she calls them. She gets done up like Lee Harvey and hides in the Book Depository. Then, when JFK rides by in the car, Jackie leans out the window and shoots Marilyn Monroe! She’s an absolute stitch! You’ll wet yourself, truly you will.
Diana: Do you mean to say that they participate in this?
Parker: Oh sure. Everyone pretty much gets along up here. And it’s like God is always saying: “Lighten up, already. You’re dead!”
Oscar Wilde: (Entering and speaking half to himself as he wanders the stage.) A prudent man is one who avoids taking unnecessary risks. So does his mother.
Diana: Beg pardon?
Wilde: It isn’t enough merely to be rich. One must also have free checking.
Diana: I’m afraid I don’t....
Parker: Let’s scram. He hasn’t stopped speaking in epigrams for a century. And between you and me, honey, he used up his best material a long, long time ago. (They all exit.)
Wilde: In most parts of the world, shackles and handcuffs are a symbol of tyranny. In San Francisco, they are a first date. (He brightens.) Wait! That was better, wasn’t it? (He rushes off after Parker and Diana. When he is out of sight, they reenter from the opposite wing.)
Diana: You know, this isn’t at all what I expected.
Parker: I know. Everyone says that. But think how I feel. Jews don’t even have heaven!
Diana: (Trying on her brave, sad smile, then suddenly alert.) Oh I say! Over there! Isn’t that...? It is! Nicole Brown Simpson! (Incredulous.) And Elvis?
Parker: Yeah, that’s Nicole, all right. (Putting on her glasses.) But that guy is Chuchi something-or-other from Atlantic City. This place is lousy with dead impersonators, honey.
Diana: But we must go and ask her!
Parker: Ask her what? Ohhhh, right. Okay. Lemme get her attention. Nicole, sweetheart! Look, I’ve got a little bag of nose candy here for you! Ha, ha, just kidding. But listen, if you don’t mind, Lady Di is curious as to who dunnit!
Simpson: Oh, so like, who isn’t? Well, if you must know, it was—
Parker: Look out! They’re coming this way! Diana! Run—!(From offstage, the sounds of the Running of the Bulls return, louder and more clangorous than before. Thundering hooves are now heard, ever nearer.)
BLACKOUT