Do You Take These Scissors?

     (A PRIEST stands in between the BRIDE and the GROOM.)

PRIEST:  ...In sickness and in health?

GROOM:  I do.

PRIEST:  And do you agree to let her cut your hair if there's a pandemic?

     (A beat.)

GROOM:  What?

PRIEST:  I'm just spit-balling here, but, let's say we were to have a pandemic--

GROOM:  Is that like an epidemic?

PRIEST:  Kind of.  I don't really know the difference, but just pretend it's the same thing.

GROOM:  Okay.

BRIDE:  Uh, is this important?

PRIEST:  I wouldn't say it's not important.

BRIDE:  Okay.

PRIEST:  So there's a pandemic, and you can't leave your house--

GROOM:  Why can't I leave my house?

PRIEST:  Because you could catch the--

BRIDE:  Because it's a pandemic.

GROOM:  Okay, you don't have to use that tone.

BRIDE:  I just want to hurry this along.  We still have to take photos and you know how your mother gets.

GROOM:  Please don't bring up my mother.  She's six feet away from us.

PRIEST:  So you can't leave the house, and that means you can't get a haircut.  Do you agree to let this person who you're going to spend the rest of your life with cut your hair?

     (A beat.)

BRIDE:  Uh?

GROOM:  I'm thinking.

BRIDE:  What do you mean you're thinking?  I can cut your hair.

GROOM:  I--I'd rather you didn't though.

BRIDE:  Are you kidding?

GROOM:  You don't know how I like it.

BRIDE:  I own a salon.  I cut hair for a living.

GROOM:  You cut women's hair.

PRIEST:  It's a good thing I asked.

BRIDE:  It's harder to cut women's hair than men's hair.

GROOM/PRIEST:  Noooooo./I wouldn't say that.

BRIDE:  You take a buzzer and you--

GROOM:  See, I already don't like where this is going.

BRIDE:  You're not going to let me cut your hair if there's a pandemic?

GROOM:  How long does a pandemic go on for?  Is it longer than an epidemic?

BRIDE:  Can you stop talking about epidemics?  Nobody said anything about an epidemic.

PRIEST:  The pandemic could go on for months.  Maybe years.

GROOM:  Years?  Oh god.

BRIDE:  See?  You have to let me cut your hair.  You can't go years without a haircut.

GROOM:  I mean...

BRIDE:  It's a haircut!  I'm not performing surgery on you.

GROOM:  Oh, I'd let you perform surgery on me.

PRIEST:  That's funny.  Surgery was my next question.

BRIDE:  Surgery you're fine with but not a haircut?

GROOM:  Well, nobody's going to see it if you do a bad job!

PRIEST:  Unless it's plastic surgery.  Have you seen Father Thompson lately?  Who does he think he's fooling?

BRIDE:  Just say you'll let cut your hair.

GROOM:  I can't lie to a priest!

BRIDE:  It won't be lying, because if there's a pandemic, I'm cutting your hair.

GROOM:  Would you let me cut your hair?

BRIDE:  Are you out of your mind?

GROOM:  What's the difference?

BRIDE:  The difference is that I'm trained to cut hair and you've got eyes like Mr. Magoo.  I'm not giving you scissors and letting you near my scalp.

PRIEST:  Eyesight is very important when it comes to hair.  Sister Berta tried to cut my hair once and she's blind as a bat.  I gave her a plant to trim instead.  Poor thing was dead in two days.

BRIDE:  Even if I do a bad job, what difference does it make?

GROOM:  I'd look like an idiot.

BRIDE:  Who do you need to look good for?  You're going to be married.  You think I care if you look good?  I don't want you looking good.  You think I want everyone thinking my husband looks good? 

GROOM:  AND YOU WANT ME TO LET YOU CUT MY HAIR?

PRIEST:  Please don't yell.  We're in a church.

GROOM:  You started this!

BRIDE:  You act like you have the greatest haircut in the world.

GROOM:  What's wrong with my haircut?

BRIDE:  There's nothing wrong with it, but--

GROOM:  I pay sixty dollars for this haircut.

BRIDE:  What?

PRIEST:  It's okay, my son, stupidity isn't a sin.

BRIDE:  Once we're married, you're not paying that much for a haircut.

GROOM:  Oh, yes I am.  I love my barber.

BRIDE:  Then take him out for dinner.  But you're not paying that much for a buzzcut and a trim on top.

GROOM:  Okay, that sounds easy to pull off, but I have a very uniquely shaped head.

PRIEST:  It is very large.

GROOM:  I didn't say large.

PRIEST:  Sorry.

GROOM:  You think I have a big head?

BRIDE:  You think he has a big head?

PRIEST:  (To the BRIDE.)  I think if I were you, I'd pray the children aren't born with his head.

BRIDE:  Father--

PRIEST:  And it slopes.  It looks like a Dutch cottage.

GROOM:  That's why I need special attention paid to it.

BRIDE:  Fine.  I won't cut your hair.  If there's a pandemic, we'll sit inside, and your hair will grow down to your feet, and I won't even suggest cutting it.

GROOM:  Thank you.

PRIEST:  But the point is--

BRIDE:  We get the point, Father, but I have two dozen swans waiting in a pond by the golf course and if I don't get my photos with them, I am going to lose my mind, so can we just get on with it?

     (A beat.)

PRIEST:  Yes.

BRIDE/GROOOM:  Thank you.

PRIEST:  So about money--

BRIDE/GROOM:  Oh. My. God./Oh boy.

     End of Play