A bare stage. In the centre a piece of paper. PETER enters. Picks it up. He has eyes that burn.

PETER
Huh. A lottery ticket.

Reads the numbers to himself

Imagine if life was that simple. If I could just pick up a piece of paper and find myself transformed.

JUNE, an old lady, enters shuffling

JUNE
Where is it? I am hobbled.

She does not look at Peter. Just at the ground.

Where is it? My rent is due. My shoes are leaking. My hip is sore. My lips are thin. My teeth are not nice at all.

The two do not pay any attention to each other yet.

PETER
This lottery ticket. Thrown here. On its own, lying like a piece of garbage in the middle of this street.

JUNE
I don’t know.

She sits or leans on something.

Where will I go now. This city is cold. Cold. My body is old. Old. I sleep, but not a lot. Why one day be down one day be up? The next day be down the next day be up. The next day be down the next day be up.

PETER
I would buy a car. Two. Big ones. I’d drive around the city honking my horn, honking my horn.

JUNE
The next day up. The next day down.

PETER
Honking my horn. Honking my horn.

JUNE
Honking my horn.

PETER
The next day up the next day down.

JUNE
Honking my horn the next day up

PETER
The next day down.

JUNE
Horn

PETER
Up

JUNE
Honking

PETER
Down

JUNE
The next day up

PETER
Honking my horn

JUNE
The next day down

Peter scrunches up paper and drops on the ground.

PETER
Hah. Some hope. Dreams come and go. But mostly they go.

JUNE
My piece of paper. You! Have you seen my paper? It’s a little piece.

PETER
Like this?

He picks up the paper.

JUNE
Yes. Exactly. That is it. Thank you. That is it.

PETER
This is it?

JUNE
Yes.

Peter puts it in his pocket. June does not panic. She feels he has made a simple mistake.

No sir. That is mine. That paper. I need it for my life to be… cheerful. It is a lottery ticket you see. I won. I am now rich. If you just give me back my paper.

PETER
Is there a reward?

JUNE
No reward. None. It is not my place to reward or award, you are a human being. So am I. Please give me my paper.

PETER
Takes it out of pocket and examines front and back.
You didn’t sign.

JUNE
No, why would I. It’s mine. Give it to me. I need it. Believe me when I say, few can have had a life like mine.

PETER
What are your numbers?

JUNE
Six, seven, eight, nine, twenty two, twenty three . . .

PETER
Yes?

JUNE
Twenty six. That was a good year. Met a man who said he loved me. Took me away. Never went home. Left my mother alone.

PETER
The numbers?

JUNE
Thirty three. The age of Christ. I became a martyr too. They crucified me. It was a crucifixion. Bloody painful. Forty. I was old. Older than I am now. Happier too. Please sir. Give me my ticket.

PETER
I don’t want to. If it is what you say it is than it is mine. I will spend and spend and never think at all. And your sad old face, your craggy eyes all weepy, blue-black like an old dog won’t make me change my mind!

JUNE
Please sir. If you take it then I’m finished.

PETER
I don’t care. Now I can fuck and I am going to fuck you first!

He pushes June over. Spits on her.

I have made my contribution now it is time to take what I want.

JUNE
I hope you die.

PETER
Old bitch in the dirt. I shit on you. Why do you think your happiness matters? It is not important. You think you belong anywhere else but where you are? Why do you think God invented misery?

JUNE
Sixty five I started drinking. Started late and couldn’t stop. I am thirsty now again for the
first time since…

PETER
I am going to shave, wash and clean. I smell bad now but tomorrow I’ll smell good.

JUNE
…Seventy-five. You are a cruel man. Not a surprise. Handsome I suppose. You would make me sick if I thought of it.

PETER
I have been climbing all my life. Now I will fly.
Holds up ticket
It’s real. My happiness is real. Real beautiful.
Reads numbers.
Fifteen, twenty, twenty two, twenty eight, thirty three, forty.

JUNE
All good years. Short at least.

PETER
Numbers, like clouds, have shapes that look like things. In this forty I see an orgasm and it is turning me on. Forty. Like an unbelievable fuck.

JUNE
Forty. I met my match. He held me for days and I sank into his chest. His chest like a
universe.

PETER
You shouldn’t talk. Don’t talk. You mutt! I tell you be quiet!

JUNE
He would have made short work of you. Short work.

A Voice is heard through speakers.

VOICE
No one has won the Lottery. Not this time. Sorry. No winners of the lottery.

The two are still for a moment whilst the news sinks in.

PETER
I knew it. I did. Back to where we started. Back to the way it used to be. Back to the whole rigmarole. Now I’m upset. God is a bastard. My mother was a whore. My brother is still my brother and you are still shit on my shoe.

He rips up lottery ticket and drops it on June. Walks away slowly.

JUNE
I wish he had lifted me up. I’ll have to just lie here now, on the ground, on my own, for
all the world to see. How embarrassing.

LIGHTS FADE