Father Death wants to retire. It’s a familiar story: you have to press the final deadlines and train your successor. We meet Father Death in a white room, in front of him a wall of tube televisions flickering the disasters on planet Earth, his worn scythe leaning against his armchair. His successor stands behind him in a black suit, a tablet and a pole pruner in his hands, criticising the population growth of the last two hundred years and talking about inbound marketing. God also turns up, a young woman with a glued-on white beard, who – to Father Death’s taste – has far too many stupid creation ideas such as platypuses or psychoactive licking frogs. And then she threatens Father Death’s work of death with one of her crazy ideas. Gevatter is in the midst of a life and death crisis. A short intimate play about life, death and the fact that things can always get worse.
Father Death is out, or the day he hangs up his job
A short intimate play about life, death and the fact that things can always get worse.
