[Lights up on the moon-lit study-bedroom in Ernest Hemingway’s house in the Finca Vigia, outside Havana. It is very late a night, all the tourists have left and the house is closed. However, one young man has lingered behind, having hidden himself in a closet until everyone else had gone.
YOUNG MAN: [as he emerges from his hiding place] I think it’s okay to come out now. I haven’t heard a sound for at least thirty minutes. [pauses, searches for a light and turns on a lamp] Oh, my God! I’m here alone, at last! Here in Hemingway’s inner sanctum, the holy of holies. All the damn tourists have left. Now I can really have a good look around, and have the place all to myself . . . There’s his typewriter on the shelf where he stood and worked. [caresses the typewriter] It was on this machine that he wrote The Old Man and the Sea. [in a hushed voice] It’s a sacred relic . . .
[There is a movement and a rustle behind him.
YOUNG MAN: [crouching down] What was that? Is anybody there?
HEMINGWAY’S GHOST: Yeah, it’s Papa. And get your filthy hands off my typewriter, you moron, you lousy canaille.
YOUNG MAN: Oh, my God. Don’t shoot me! I’m sorry. I meant no harm.
HEMINGWAY’S GHOST: Stand up and face me like a man, you spineless oaf.
[The YOUNG MAN stands up on weak and wobbly legs.
YOUNG MAN: [nervously] May I call you “Papa”?
HEMINGWAY’S GHOST: NO! You may not. You’re a coward, and I despise cowards. Now get the hell out of my house!
YOUNG MAN: Okay, I’m going. [starts to leave, then turns back] Uh, Mr. Hemingway, can I have your autograph?
[There is a moment of silence, then a loud crash and a scream as the lights fade to BLACKOUT.
Causes Anthony Maulucci Supports
Greenpeace, Amnesty Inernational, American Cancer Society, Red Cross, Save the Children