The Box

Dramatis Personae

Waiter – a waiter (from New York) who works at a French restaurant
Accountant
Lawyer
Anthropologist
Napoleon – the French dictator who now works at a fast food restaurant
President – the President of the U.S. (whose character is not based on any living or dead President of the U.S.)
Agent 1 – a Secret Service agent for the President
Agent 2 – another Secret Service agent for the President



Waiter: (Exiting the restaurant at which he works.) Finally, it’s five o’clock. Whoa, if I don’t hurry I’m gonna be late for my show. (Starts walking down the sidewalk at a hurried pace.)

(Waiter bumps into a person who is walking down the same stretch of sidewalk but is traveling in the opposite direction.)

Waiter: Hey, yo, watch where ya goin’!

Lawyer: (confidently and with a bit of an attitude) Excuse me, sir, but you are mistaken. It was you who bumped into me.

Waiter: Oh yeah? You callin’ me a liar? ‘Cause I don’t like to be talked to like that by someone I don’t even know that good.

Lawyer: I am in the right, sir, and I am willing to defend my case in a court of law. And I can predict that you will lose unless you read a grammar book.

Waiter: You callin’ me stupid?

Lawyer: Not at all, sir. I am merely pointing out that your lack of eloquence is slightly less than subtle.

Waiter: Yeah? Well what makes you think you’re gonna do so good in court?

Lawyer: Because I am Simon H. Andaffiliates, attorney at law.

Waiter: Well, just ‘cause you’re some big college boy doesn’t mean you’re any smarter than me.

Lawyer: I afraid it does indeed, sir.

Waiter: Psh, forget about it. I’m gonna be late for my show. (Starts to walk away.) Hey, you dropped your box.

Lawyer: Now, now, sir, I can understand how you can be confused about who bumped into whom, but surely you must know your own box when you see it.

Waiter: What are you talkin’ about?

Lawyer: That’s your box.

Waiter: No, it isn’t.

Lawyer: Well, it certainly isn’t mine. Someone else must have dropped it.

Waiter: What’s in it?

Lawyer: Hey, we can’t just go looking through other people’s property. We’ll have to turn it in to the police station.

Waiter: C’mon, they’re not gonna do anything. Besides, there might be money in it.

Lawyer: (eyes go wide for a second) That’s beside the point. We should at least try to find the owner.

Waiter: Hah! In this city? Impossible.

Lawyer: Well we can’t just let it sit here. Someone might take it.

Waiter: You mean like this? (He reaches down and grabs the box.)

(Just then another person walks by and sees the two staring at the box.)

Napoleon: (with a thick French accent) Holy revolution. Is that what I think it is?

Lawyer: Are you the owner?

Waiter: What do you think it is?

Napoleon: (Directing his wide eyes from the box to the waiter’s face…) A box. (…and promptly returning them to the box.)

Waiter: We know that, you bum!

Lawyer: What we need to know is to whom the box belongs.

Napoleon: (stops staring at the box and looks casually at the lawyer.) I am sorry, I cannot help you. Have you tried looking inside?

Waiter: He’s right, we need to look inside.

Lawyer: We can’t. It’s against the law. I must insist that we at least take it to a police station before looking inside.

Napoleon: (aside to the waiter) What a killjoy.

Waiter: Tell me about it. Hey, where are you from anyway?

Napoleon: I just got out of work at ze Bagel Barn.

Waiter: No, I mean your accent, it sounds funny.

Napoleon: Ah, yes. I am foreign. Ah, I miss ze good old days. You know, I was very important where I came from. I even led zem through a war. But afterwards, zey said I had too much power, and so zey exiled me.

(Another person walks up and starts talking to them.)

Accountant: Watcha guys lookin’ at?

Lawyer: We found this box here on the sidewalk, and we’re trying to find out to whom it belongs.

Waiter: Yours?

Accountant: Um…yeah, it is.

Lawyer: Really?

Accountant: Uh, sure it is.

Waiter: You happy now, Mr. Attorney? Now we can see what’s inside.

Accountant: Uh, no, you can’t. I mean, you shouldn’t. I would rather you not.

Waiter: Why not?

Accountant: Um, please just give it to me and let me go.

Waiter: Who are you anyway?

Accountant: I’m an accountant. Now please give it to me…

Lawyer: Hold on a second. I don’t think you’re telling the truth. I don’t think it’s really your box.

Accountant: What? Of course I am. I, I…I…uh…um…oh, all right. It’s not mine. But that box has been here for hours. I just want to know what’s inside!

Waiter: See? He agrees with me. Let’s just open it up, get the money—

Lawyer: Hey, how do you know it has money in it?

Accountant: Yeah, it probably has jewelry or something like that.

Napoleon: No, no, it probably contains some sort of recipe collection for some really good French food. I am so tired of being a Napoleon at a fast food restaurant.

Lawyer: No, no, no, you’re all wrong. It most likely has some important documents.

(Another person walks up.)

Anthropologist: Hmm, I’d say it might have some sort of artifact or even a collection of artifacts from some ancient Mayan tribe. Oh, I hope so.

Waiter: Who are you, and what do you know about our box?

Anthropologist: Your box? Ha, ha, ha, that’s not your box. I saw that lying here in this exact same spot last night. I thought I’d come down to see if anyone had claimed it yet. I guess not. Oh, and I’m George Farewell, an anthropologist.

Waiter: Well, this thing is drivin’ me crazy. I’m gonna open it.

Lawyer: No, you can’t.

Waiter: Oh, shut up.

(The waiter runs around the corner with the box.)

Napoleon: Get him!

(After passing the corner, all, including the waiter, stop to watch a shiny black limousine park by the sidewalk. Two men dressed in black suits wearing sunglasses step out of the car and hurry over to the waiter.)

Agent 1: I’ve got him. C’mon hand over the box.

(The waiter hands it over in.)

Agent 2: Good, let’s move.

(The two agents get into the car. The party is left on the sidewalk to wonder what happened, while inside the car…)

Agent 2: Here you are Mr. President.

President: Oh good, we finally found it: my lucky lunchbox.