Scene: hotel lobby, Stan is behind front desk, an old woman stands in front of it. (the right exit will serve as the outside door, the left as the exit to the rooms.)

Stan: You're in room 260, have a nice stay. (she exits left) Hope you break a hip in the elevator you old bat.

Death (a very normal looking man, despite the name, in a trenchcoat) enters from right carrying a small suitcase. He walks to the desk, sets his suitcase down.

Death: (exhausted) Please tell me you have a vacancy.

Stan: (looks in his book) Yeah I think we might have something like the entire fourth and fifth floors free. Wanna book both?

Death: No, only one room.

Stan: Dammit. Woulda really helped business. Oh well, name?

Death: Death. That's D E-

Stan: Death?

Death: Yes.

Stan: What, Cupid out there helping you with your suitcases?

Death: God, don't bring up Cupid. Pompus jerk.

Stan: Listen man, if you're gonna use an assumed name, could you please give me a more convincing one?

Death: I'm not using an assumed name. I'm Death, and I just need a place to sleep off a hangover.

Stan: (smugly) Alright let's see some ID.

Death removes from his trenchcoat (surprizingly enough) a small pink purse, pulls out his drivers liscence and hands it to Stan. Stan gapes at it.

Stan: Death. Well. . . I see you shaved the, er, the flaming moustache.

Death: Yes and I'm starting to think that was a mistake. What do you think, with or without?

Stan: It certainly helps your image. . . (hands back liscence) So where's your scythe?

Death: I don't carry it anymore. Trying to keep a low profile, and it seems the only place I can go with a six foot tall scythe and not be noticed is the New York subway. Now are you going to give me a room or what?

Stan: (nervously) Yes sir, right away sir. (puts key down on desk, puts his hands up as if it's about to explode. Grabs forms and pen from inside desk) Sign here please.

Death picks up pen, tries to sign.

Stan: Th- The pen died. . .

Death: That tends to happen. (throws pen over his shoulder, reaches into his coat, pulls out a giant feather quill, signs form, puts his quill away)

Stan: You're in 511. Have a nice stay.

Death: (grabs key) Thank you. (begins to exit left.)

Man enters from left carrying two large suitcases.

Man: God these are heavy. . .

Death: Here, let me help you with those.

Death attempts to grab one of the suitcases, and in doing so touches Man's hand. Man immediately drops dead.

Death: Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit.

Stan: Oh my God. . .

Death: I'm really sorry about that. You can charge a little extra to my room or something. . . sorry.

Stan: No no not at all. No problem at all. Just a. . . corpse. . . in the middle of my lobby.

Death: I'd call the coroner if I were you. Don't want him stinking up the place. (grabs his suitcase again, begins to exit left)

Stan: Oh no, don't trouble yourself with that. (rings bell on desk, Bellhop runs out from left.)

Death: Yes. . . thank you. . . (hands suitcase to Bellhop. Bellhop holds out his hand for a tip. Death sighs, reaches into a pocket, draws out a dollar bill, hands it to Bellhop. Bellhop drops dead) Oh crap.

Stan: Well, that's one less bellhop on my payroll. Don't worry about the mess, we have a good janitor and a coroner nearby. (rings bell again.)

Another Bellhop walks in, takes one look at the dead body of the other bellhop, walks right back out again.

Death: I'll carry my own thanks. (grabs suitcase, exits left)

Stan sighs, rests his head in his hands. A thud is heard from offstage.

Death's voice: Sorry! One less maid too.

Stan: It's going to be a long night.