the other motherfucker with the hat.

(A blank stage.

A spotlight.

The STOVEPIPE HAT LADY steps into the pool of light. She's wearing a flannel, ill-fitting khaki shorts, and a stovepipe hat.)

STOVEPIPE HAT LADY
Imagine if I just walked around like this.
(she stands, looks)
I'd be a fuckin' idiot! But give me a dick and a beard and suddenly it's a fashion statement. I'm the best fuckin' President you ever heard of. A Republican. 

(ABRAHAM LINCOLN creeps out. He's fully clothed but he steps surreptitiously, as if naked.)

ABRAHAM LINCOLN
(whispering)
Excuse me.

STOVEPIPE HAT LADY
(too loud)
Hunh?

ABRAHAM LINCOLN
Can you--?

(ABRAHAM LINCOLN points to the hat she wears, and then to his head.)

I need--

(STOVEPIPE HAT LADY saunters over to ABRAHAM LINCOLN, who cowers from her.)

I --

STOVEPIPE HAT LADY
Not too ar-tic-ur-late without your precious headpiece are you?

ABRAHAM LINCOLN
No, it's -- well, I'm dead.

(The color drains from STOVEPIPE HAT LADY's face. She immediately removes the hat, does a triple take, to the hat, to ABRAHAM LINCOLN, to the hat, to ABRAHAM LINCOLN, and to the hat again. She jumps and zooms offstage, a puff of smoke and a stovepipe hat spinning in mid-air in her wake.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN plucks the hat out of the air, places it on his head. He clears his throat and stands up straight. Then he lies down flat on his back and folds his hands under his heart, a dead man.)

fin