Sam – A Top-Hatted, Caped Gentleman with Mutton-chop whiskers
Joe – Another Top-Hatted, Caped Gentleman with Mutton-chop whiskers
A Bus Stop
Sam: Good morrow to you, Joe!
Joe: Good morrow to you, Sam!
Sam: I say, Joe, have you any cheese?
Joe: Alas, I have no cheese of which either to speak or to eat, Sam! Have you?
Sam: As Dame Fortuna would have it, I have. Would you care for some, Dear Fellow?
Joe: In truth, Excellent Sir, I would!
Sam: Here you go then, Joe. Some cheese. I bid you have at it!
Joe: As concerns cheese, you, Sir, are a gentleman gourmand, friend Sam!
Sam: And you, friend Joe, are the picture of an honored member of the gentry class!
Joe: Oh, I do so love cheese, Sam!
Sam: Oh, so, too, do I so love cheese, Joe!
Joe (playfully with a wink to Sam): I should think I love cheese a sight more than do you, Sam...
Sam (visibly taken aback at the affrontery of his associate): To the contrary, my good man -- there can be no doubt of the fact that it is I, rather than you, who does love cheese the more!
Joe: Why then, we must resort to fisticuffs to resolve the matter.
Sam: Quite right, Old Chap! Come to fisticuffs, it must!
(They fight. Sam punches Joe in the eye. Joe falls to the ground.)
Joe: You have smitten me in the eye, and I am fallen. In troth, you love cheese more than I.
Sam: It is as I have said.
(The bus arrives. Joe remains on the ground until the play’s conclusion.)
Sam: What ho! The bus is come! (Looking down at Joe) Good day to you, Sir!
Joe: And to you, Sir!
(Exit bus, Sam thereupon.)
Joe: My poor pugilistic skills give poor justice to my love for cheese. Therefore, I die of shame.
(Dies. An hour passes. Another bus comes. Sam returns, thereupon. Seeing Joe, lying dead, Sam kneels and reaches into his coat pocket. He withdraws, from Joe’s pocket, a large, magnificent piece of cheese.)
Sam: My friend, who has died, has told me he had no cheese when, indeed, he had, secreted upon his person, as fine a morsel of cheese as eye has ever beheld. In purposefully keeping me, his eldest and most trusted friend, in ignorance of this sublime possession, he has shown that, though some, such as I, may claim an equal love to his of cheese, man has not lived who loves it more.
(Fade to black)