MR. KOSBECK

(The setting is an elegant office in a major city.  At rise, the room is dark except for a shaft of moonlight cascading through the window upstage right.  There is a door downstage left which opens, and a LITTLE CLEANING WOMAN enters carrying  cleaning paraphenalia.  SHE switches on the lights, and we now see that the room is richly appointed with a large mahogany desk center stage and a beautifully framed painting of an elegant handsome man hanging from the upstage wall.  CLEANING WOMAN puts down her implements and shuffles to the desk.  SHE picks up a framed picture and stares at it longingly.  Then she begins to sing.)

Thirty-five years ago,
Thirty-five years ago,
And he still looks as great
As on that night he worked late…
Thirty-five years ago.
I remember that smile,
That fabulous smile,
I remember the suit he wore that night;
I was so young,
So very, very young
And the only cleaning girl on the floor that night.
Oh, the lovely things he told me,
How the next night we’d meet here again,
But though I appear
Year after year
He hasn’t worked this late since then.

Oh, Mr. Kosbeck,
I can’t forget the night you held me---
Oh, Mr. Kosbeck,
The thrill I felt was so sublime!
There are some girls, Mr. Kosbeck,
Who just don’t fall in love
With every man who works overtime.

Oh, Mr. Kosbeck,
Why did you go and build my hopes up?
Oh, Mr. Kosbeck,
To treat a kid like that is wrong;
There are some girls, Mr. Kosbeck,
Who’ll clean a fella’s room
When he’s not in it
For just so long.

My mother would tell me, "Go out, Bernice,
"Look about, Bernice,
"Have yourself a few little flings"---
But there are some girls, Mr. Kosbeck,
Who fall in love once
And only once
And are just more sensitive to things.

Oh, Mr. Kosbeck,
Each night I always thought you’d be here;
Oh, Mr. Kosbeck,
If I’d have known, I would have quit;
I won’t try rekindling the fire,
For tomorrow I’m gonna retire,
But there are some girls, Mr. Kosbeck,
Who like to be remembered
Just a teensy weensy bit.
 
 

(SHE places the picture back on the desk.  Then SHE lifts the telephone wire and very carefully cuts it into a dozen pieces.
Then SHE removes the photograph from its frame and lights a match to it, dropping the remains in the waste basket which ignites.  SHE shuffles to the double doors stage right behind which is a bar.  She grabs a pitcher of water and douses the flames in the basket.  SHE then empties their sodden ashes on the desk.  SHE opens the desk drawers one by one and blithely scatters their contents around the room.  SHE removes the large painting from the wall, places it on the carpet and overturns the inkwell .  SHE very methodically makes sure  that ink covers every corner of it.  Then just as carefully, SHE replaces it to its position on the wall.   Returning to the bar, SHE uncorks two bottles of scotch and waltzing about the room, she dribbles them over the plush carpet.  SHE now goes to the draperies flanking the window and yanks them off the rod and puts them bit by bit into the shredder.  When this is accomplished, SHE picks up the computer, hauls it to the window and drops it out.  We hear a distant crash.  Then SHE fetches her implements and tiptoes toward the door, quietly opening it, switching off the light and exiting.  The room is a complete shambles.)

 

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