Seven Minutes in Heaven

Dramatis Personae

• James Moody — 34, an ordinary man in jeans, tan/beige shirt, and sandals. Nervous, bewildered, at times boyish in his humor.
  
  

• St. Peter — An elderly, world-weary gatekeeper of Heaven. White robe, halo, keys on a chain. Bored with his eternal task, dry sense of humor.
  
  

• Two Angels — Silent, robed attendants who appear only at the end to escort James away.
  
  

• Carlo — The next soul in line, a brief comic mention at the close.
  
  

Setting

A stereotypical depiction of Heaven. Clouds and fog hover ankle-length across the stage. Harp music drifts faintly in the background.
At center stage: a golden podium, an enormous hourglass, and behind it, massive golden gates.

Props

• Podium (simple lectern or stand).
  
  

• Enormous hourglass with visible sand.
  
  

• Large book or ledger for St. Peter.
  
  

• Oversized keyring with old keys (worn around Peter’s neck).
  
  

• Optional: handheld harp or harp music sound effect.
  
  

Costumes

• James: Modern casual (tan/beige shirt, jeans, sandals).
  
  

• St. Peter: White robe, halo (could be stylized), keyring chain.
  
  

• Angels: White robes, simple halos or wings.
  
  

• Carlo (if shown physically): Casual contemporary outfit, distinct from James.

ACT 1 SCENE 1 HEAVEN

SETTING: Stereotypical view of Heaven.  Clouds, fog/mist hovers above the ground ankle length.  Soft harp music plays in the background.  An elderly man in a flowing white robe and halo is at a podium, looking bored.  Giant, glimmering gold bars of an ornate gate stands behind him.  He has keys on a chain around his neck.

(A man wearing tan/beige shirt and jeans with sandals walks in looking confused) JAMES MOODY: Hello?  Anyone there?  HELLO?! Where am I? 

(He walks forward and spies St. Peter, still looking bored) James: Um, hello?  Do you like, work here or something?  I think I’m lost…

ST. PETER (said looking down almost more to his podium than to JAMES, like he’s been here a million times before…because he has): Hello my child and do not fret, once you were lost but now you are found.  You are where every tear is wiped, every wound is healed and every ache is quenched.  You may now begin your 7 minutes to ask me whatever it is you can imagine.

JAMES (Not quite understanding): I’m not crying but uh I still think I’m in the wrong place.  I was on my way to meet this girl actually and-

PETER (Exasperated): And you saw a bright light?

JAMES (Excited): Yes!  I stepped to cross the street and and…

PETER: And yeah, that was the Sun Bus.  Bad things happen when you don’t look both ways.  And, you know, jaywalk.

JAMES: Wait, are you saying I’m…that I’m…

PETER: Dead?  Kicked the bucket?  Taking the long dirt nap?  

JAMES (incredulous): I’M DEAD??

PETER: Bought the farm.  Pushing up daisies.  Meet your maker.  Permanently out of the office.

JAMES: OK I get it.
PETER: Unsubscribed from life.  Swiped left on homeostasis.  Took the one-way sky elevator…

JAMES: Yes I got it.

PETER: Rage-quit life…

JAMES: I GOT IT! 

(Thinks for a minute)

Are you sure I’m dead?  

PETER: (checking a ledger lazily) James Moody, 34, struck by bus. Sandals with jeans. Yes, you’re definitely dead.

PETER: (snaps the ledger shut) All right, Mr. Moody. Seven minutes. Ask anything you want. No refunds, no extensions.

[PETER flips an enormous hourglass on the podium; golden sand begins to fall.]

JAMES: (still reeling) Seven minutes? That’s it?

PETER: Seven minutes in Heaven. Very exclusive package.  Someone upstairs must have taken pity on you.  

JAMES: (half-laughing) Like the game from middle school?  I finally get to play!

PETER: (deadpan) Yes. Though it’s only the two of us here and I’m married.

JAMES: (blinking) Right. Uh…okay…anything? Anything at all?

PETER: (glancing at the falling sand) Anything. Mysteries of life, love, the universe. You’ve got about six-and-a-half minutes now.

JAMES: (panicked) Uh…okay…how many times did I actually brush my teeth in my life?

PETER: (sighing checking the ledger) 27,894. Including the times you only pretended.  Interesting fact, you bought floss more times than you actually ever flossed in your life.

JAMES: (gapes) Wow. Okay. How many acres of wheat went into all the spaghetti I’ve eaten?

PETER: (without looking) 3.4 acres. Durum variety. Italy and North Dakota.  Mostly North Dakota according to your DNA.

JAMES: (starts pacing) This is insane…um…how many times did I almost die without knowing it?

PETER: Eight. One of them involved a raccoon and a faulty extension cord.  Another time involved a particularly bad case of constipation.

JAMES: (stops dead) …What?

PETER: (shrugs) You didn’t ask for details.

[The sand falls steadily. PETER taps the hourglass.]

PETER: Five minutes left.

JAMES (starting to get into it, pacing even): Um ok ok, let’s think I can ask whatever I want?  OH!  How much bacon did I eat?

PETER: 47.7 Kilos worth.  Are you sure this is how you want to spend your time?  You can literally ask me about any mystery.  Don’t you want to know about-

JAMES: (interrupting, excited) How many hours did I spend stuck in traffic?

PETER: (rolls eyes, checks the ledger) Three hundred and ninety-one. That’s sixteen full days of your life staring at brake lights.

JAMES: (laughs nervously) Sixteen days! Okay, okay…how many socks did I lose in the dryer?

PETER: (flat) Forty-two. Oddly poetic.

JAMES: (giddy now, ignoring the sand) This is great! Oh! How many times did I actually make someone laugh?

PETER: (glances up) Nine hundred and twenty-seven. Including that one kid in fifth grade who laughed so hard milk came out of his nose and…ah, other liquids from other places.

JAMES: (smiling at the memory, then faltering a little) …Nine hundred and twenty-seven? That’s…not as many as I thought.

[Beat. The harp music fades a little. The sand continues falling.]

PETER: (softly) Four minutes left.

JAMES: (growing restless, pacing) Okay—uh, how many people loved me? I mean…really loved me?

PETER: (checking carefully) Four.

JAMES: (stunned, whispers) …Only four?

PETER: (shrugs) Five, if you had bothered to look both ways.

[Beat. James looks at the hourglass. The mood has shifted.]

JAMES (shocked): Wait, she was my soulmate?  She was just a blind date!  Are there such things as soulmates?

PETER (finally getting interested): Yes, but not how humans tend to think of it.  Soulmates aren’t some 1 in 7 billion connection.

JAMES (feeling a little relieved): They aren’t?  That’s a relief.

PETER: Yes, they are a great deal more rare!

JAMES: WHAT?

PETER: Well, think about it.  Hundreds of billions of people have lived and died throughout the millenia.  The odds of two souls being perfect for each other even FINDING each other, let alone being born AT THE SAME TIME…it’s a hugely astronomical conjecture.  The only time those odds were beaten were…ah yes, here it is.  The 2004 World series, Boston Red Sox sweeping the Cardinals.  

JAMES: Are you serious?

PETER: Hey, don’t trade the Great Bambino.

(Checks hourglass)

Three minutes.

ACT 1 SCENE 2

JAMES (in a quiet voice, almost a whisper): Did my life…amount to anything?

PETER: No.

JAMES: No?  How can you say that?

PETER (finally meeting his eyes): What did you expect?  You weren’t Mother Theresa.  Shall I read to you how many homeless you ignored?  Or how many pleas for help left unanswered?  

JAMES: (voice cracking, sitting away from Peter and on the stage edge) You make it sound like my whole life was a waste.

PETER: (closing the ledger gently and joining JAMES) That’s not what I said. I said “no” because your life isn’t a number to add up, James. It isn’t about totals. No one gets into Heaven because they hit some unknown and arbitrary number of good deeds.  That’s not how it works.

JAMES: (staring) Then how does it work?

PETER: Finally, a question worth asking!  The four who loved you.  You loved them back. The nine hundred and twenty-seven who laughed. They laughed because you wanted to brighten their day, if only for a moment.  The stranger who didn’t step in front of a bus because you delayed them thirty seconds at a crosswalk. None of that shows up on your scorecard. But it’s there.  It’s in your ledger.  And more, God saw.

[Beat. The harp music has completely faded. Only the soft hiss of sand.]

PETER: Two minutes left.

ACT 1 SCENE 3

JAMES: (sits, quiet) …Then what was I supposed to do?

PETER: (gently) Love. That’s always a good place to start.  Then realize you’re not the center of the universe…at least not always.  Mostly not always.

JAMES: (looking up) Is there time for one last question?

PETER: Was that it?

JAMES: No…

PETER: (smiles faintly) Then ask away.

JAMES: (hesitates) …Will she know? The one who was supposed to be my soulmate? Will she know I’m gone?

PETER: (getting up, checking the ledger, then closing it softly) She already does. She cried this morning and didn’t know why.  She actually said a silent prayer for you.  She would have made a good wife.

JAMES: Would have?

PETER: And still will.  Be glad soulmates aren’t all that matters.  She will find love and be happy. She’ll move on.  As so will you, now that it’s that time. 

[The last grains of sand fall. PETER flips the hourglass upside down, but it’s empty.]

JAMES: Move on?  But where?  I have so many more questions!

PETER: I’m sorry, but that’s our time.  

(Two angels appear and take a confused James away)

PETER: (back to businesslike)  NEXT! Carlo!  Good to see you at last.  Sorry you had to leave so soon but don’t worry, the new Playstation 21 is in.  You have seven minutes.  

[PETER leans in and taps the hourglass. Lights fade. Blackout.]