Lights up on a guy in shorts and a polo shirt (collar popped). He is listening to his iPod, nodding in time with the music. A booming voice is heard.

 

God: MORTAL!

 

Beat.

 

God: MORTAL?

 

The guy switches to another song and starts grooving along.

 

God: (storms out on stage) Hello? Mortal?

 

Guy: (pulls one headphone out) Oh, hey. What’s up?

 

God: Turn that thing off – this is important.

 

Guy: Wait, wait… (obviously waiting for the end of a song, he strikes a rock star pose, then switches the iPod off and faces God) …OK, now I’m listening.

 

God: Mortal, I am sending you to Earth for the good of humanity. To perform a task to which you are uniquely suited, so that future generations will sing your praises and pray for your return!

 

Guy: (backs away a bit) Not like the last guy you sent, right?

 

God: (offended) No! Don’t be so presumptuous. You are…God’s gift to women!

 

Guy: Oh yeah? So what does that involve?

 

God: Yea, you shall greet them with your mobile phone in one hand and a beer in the other, underneath the holy lights of Manning Bar, and they will give unto you their numbers. For I have bestowed upon you many gifts – (the guy looks down, God rolls his eyes) yes, there’s that – and you shall carry with you the money of your parents, lest ye be forced to choose between rent and alcohol.

 

Guy: I like the sound of that. Wait…is there a catch?

 

God: Well…I wasn’t going to say anything, but good luck tomorrow morning. (pats the guy on the back and walks off)

 

Lights down.