Hope has a Happy Meal (NHB Modern Plays) (eBook)

1.

HOPE. It’s funny, back there in the toilet I was having a little panic attack when I remembered this joke. A joke my mum told me.

It’s an old joke so you probably already know it, although – I mean there’s so many different versions maybe you don’t.

Know this one.

Beat.

It goes –

Once upon a time there’s an angel called Norman.

And Norman’s not super-senior or anything – you know, he’s not an executive angel but he does have his own assistants, so –

He’s middle management, basically.

Anyway, one day Norman’s just sitting in his cloud – just doing his daily sudoku when – BANG. He hears this massive crash.

And at first he assumes another angel’s caused it –

That maybe Donna in HR has smashed her bonsai tree again except he’s looking at Donna and she seems just as confused. In fact, all the angels he can see look confused. And some of them are gasping. Some of them are pointing down from their clouds and actually gasping.

So Norman looks down and ends up gasping too cos what he sees is Earth, the Earth they’re meant to be protecting, being invaded by giants – being invaded by massive fucking giants.

Beat.

So this sends the angels into a bit of a panic –

You know, Donna now does destroy her bonsai tree –

But Norman stays comparatively calm. He’s like, ‘Right that is alarming but the execs will know what to do. I may as well have lunch.’

And so he does – he tucks into his lunch. But as he’s forking cold risotto into his mouth he gets an e-invite to an urgent angel-wide conference call. So he puts down the fork and joins the call. ‘Don’t panic,’ says the chief exec, ‘because we’ve just sent a message to the giants asking them to leave. So, everything is under control,’ she says –

And the rest of the angels clap.

Except it’s now five months, twenty conference calls and a hundred and nineteen messages later, and the giants still haven’t left. You know, Norman’s confidence in his superiors is starting to wane.

So one day, today, for the first time ever, Norman raises his hand during a weekly conference call.

‘Uh yes, Norman, is it?’ says the chief exec.

‘Hi, yeah,’ says Norman, ‘I was just wondering if maybe we need to do more than send messages? Because I’ve been going through old financial reports and it turns out that for the last fifty years or so we’ve actually been sort of arming them – sort of mass-selling them the crystals that make our halos shine which gives them their super-strength. And we’re still supplying it apparently. So, uh – well, what I was thinking is, maybe we should stop that?’

Beat.

‘HA HA HA HA HA,’ laugh the angels.

‘Oh Normycakes,’ says the chief exec, ‘you are silly, aren’t you? But no, I think the sensible course of action would be to send another message and then all wear these T-shirts I’ve designed that say – “Pick on someone your own size, bitches!” I’ve got them in purple, yellow and green.’

And then all the angels clap and Norman leaves the call humiliated –

Vowing never to speak in an angel-wide meeting again –

And he doesn’t.

Until twenty-four years later, just two months before he’s due to retire, Norman gets some troubling news from his doctor.

‘Yep – yeah, it’s stage-four wing cancer.’

‘Oh,’ says Norman.

‘It’s already spread across both of your wings.’

Beat.

‘Right.’

Beat.

And this diagnosis –

This sudden wrestling with mortality initially makes Norman very depressed, but eventually gives him a new-found confidence. So much so that during the next angel-wide conference call Norman interrupts, saying –

‘Sorry – sorry, everyone, but this is bullshit. Because I get that a lot of you are young and new but I’ve sat in these meetings for twenty-four years now and do you know what our fucking messages have achieved? Nothing, you cunts, absolutely nothing. So listen. Tomorrow morning I’m gonna come into work as normal, I’m gonna have my breakfast, I’m gonna do my sudoku, and then I’m gonna jump off the edge of my cloud and fly down to Earth. And yes, I’m a seventy-four-year-old angel with wing cancer, so alone I’m not much of a threat. But if fifty – forty – even five of you come with me, we might actually make a difference somehow. So what do you say, guys? Shall we go and stop some giants?’

Beat.

‘HA HA HA HA HA,’ laugh the angels.

‘Good luck, mate,’ says one.

‘Yeah I’m sure the giants will be shitting themselves,’ says another –

And Norman leaves the call humiliated, again.

But when the next morning comes he thinks, ‘You know what, fuck ’em,’ and goes to stand at the edge of his cloud.

And he starts to feel quite sick – quite queasy at the thought of taking the plunge because, due to his wing cancer, he’s worried he won’t be able to fly – that he might just plummet.

Beat.

But then he jumps –

But then he just jumps and –

Beat.

Shit.

Pause.

Right, um –

I’m really, really sorry but I’ve started the wrong joke.

Beat.

Yeah.

See, weirdly my mum had quite a few jokes about giants and, what with the panic attack and the nicotine cravings, I’ve just got a bit mixed up I think. So, sorry but um – this one –

This one is definitely the one I was thinking about on the toilet –

The one that calmed me down, alright?

It goes like this –

It goes –

Once upon a time there’s this washed-up clown called Hope.

And Hope’s not a ‘clown’-clown – not a red-nose-wearing birthday clown but more of like a storyteller clown. You know, the sort of clown who’ll make you laugh and cry.

Anyway, one night Hope’s finishing a gig at a rural roadside tavern, because this is old-timey, medieval-y times, when –

A seventy-four-year-old angel falls through the roof and kills her.

Beat.

Yeah it’s a stupid joke.

But remembering it whilst I was hyperventilating on the toilet calmed me down cos it made me feel like sometimes you just have to jump – just have to try and that’s what I’m doing, you know? Cos I’m home.

Because I’m finally coming home.

Beat.

So, uh –

Yeah.

Beat.

That’s it.

Beat.

*

A moving aeroplane.

Pause.

HOPE. Were you even listening or –

PASSENGER. Yeah I was listening. I’ve just heard the joke before so –

HOPE. Oh.

Beat.

Sorry.

PASSENGER. It’s fine.

Beat.

You did fuck it up though.

HOPE. What?

PASSENGER. The joke. Cos the clown’s name’s not Hope, it’s Maurice.

HOPE. Uh – yeah, no I changed it to my name. You know, to personalise it.

PASSENGER. Well Maurice is objectively funnier.

HOPE. Oh okay.

PASSENGER. Yeah.

HOPE. Cool.

Beat.

Cool.

Pause.

PASSENGER. So can I put my headphones back in now or –

HOPE. What? Oh course, yeah –

PASSENGER. Thanks. (Puts headphones back in.)

Announcement chime.

CAPTAIN (voice-over). Good evening. This is your captain speaking. Just to say we are just about to start our descent into the People’s Republic of Koka Kola. Please be advised all passengers will be subjected to a full-cavity search on arrival, and also don’t forget to collect your complimentary can of Koke from the customer service desk. On behalf of Koka Kola Airlines I’d like to thank you for joining us and we look forward to seeing you again very, very soon.

Announcement chime.

Beat.

HOPE. Shit.

Beat.

Shit shit shit.

PASSENGER. What are you doing?

HOPE. Panicking.

PASSENGER. What?

HOPE. Sick, I’m – I’m gonna be sick.

PASSENGER. Oh god. Right hang on, I’ll get out the way.

ATTENDANT. Um, excuse me, madam, but the seatbelt sign’s on, see? So I’m going to have to ask you to sit down.

HOPE. Alright –

PASSENGER. No don’t sit down – she’s about to be sick!

ATTENDANT. Oh. Well, you do have to sit down but – one second, I’ll get you a bag.

PASSENGER. For...