A Play In One Act
The Players:
Abe Lincoln, a President
Mary Todd Lincoln, a First Lady
Charles Nelson Reilly, a Thespian
Scene: Heaven, The Lincoln Home specifically, on the evening of a welcome reception and testimonial dinner for Raquel Welch. Abraham Lincoln is primping in the bathroom mirror, hair nicely groomed, he has just finished trimming his nose hair and is stealthily applying a bit of his wife’s concealer to a large mole, all the while quite literally, whistling Dixie.
MTL: And just where do you think you’re going all gussied up?
Abe: I’ve been asked to say a few words at a reception for Miss Raquel Welch.
MTL: Oh you have, have you? You’re always being asked to say a few words at these things. It’s always Lincoln, Lincoln, Lincoln, we want Lincoln! Why don’t they get Gandhi to do it, he could use the work.
Abe: Sorry my dear, I suppose I’m just popular. Why don’t you come along? Would do you good to get out of the house. They’ll be a lot of glamorous people there. I hear Telly Savalas will be on the dais and Dom DeLuise, maybe even Burt Reynolds.
MTL: Who’s emceeing?
Abe: I believe it’s Alan King this time.
MTL: Oh, well I like him, he’s quite amusing. Still, I’m not going, you know how I despise that crowd. I’m still fuming over that screaming, hair pulling match I got into with that awful Sophia Loren in the ladies room last month. All because I questioned her grooming. Abysmal woman!
Abe: Kitten, that was Gina Lollabrigida, Sophia Loren is still alive.
MTL: Whatever, she should confide herself to the Italian Quarter with the Popes and the peasants and try not to mingle with respectable people.
Abe: (enticingly) The Kennedy Boys will be there.
MTL: What? And I should go and watch them pawing all over that strumpet while you crack wise? No thank you!
Abe: Now, now, Mary.
MTL: Oh, Dear Heavens! Do NOT let Teddy drive that poor girl home, whatever else you do.
Abe: You know God won’t let him have a driver’s license, that’s the deal they made in Purgatory. He either takes the bus or bums a ride off his brothers or some other poor schlep.
MTL: Democrats!
Abe: Well, I better be on my way. Are you sure you won’t join me?
MTL: I’m Sure. But don’t be out too late, you know I can’t fall asleep until you’ve rubbed my feet.
On that note, Abraham Lincoln, sixteenth President of The United States, turns away, rolls his eyes and lets out a long, low groan. Just like Ted Cassidy had taught him that night they stayed up drinking with Paul Newman, Robert Shaw and Carolyn Jones. Mercifully, a horn bleats from out in the street as Charles Nelson Reilly pulls up in a roar of his Powder Blue, 1960 Mercedes-Benz 300 SL convertible.
Abe: Gotta go my love, my ride’s here.
End Scene
