A Queer Vietnamese-Houstonian-New Yorker Writer musing about the arts and absurdities when not screenwriting or playwrighting

To Christopher Lee…

Upon news of his “demise,” I was thinking back to Lindsay Ellis’s review of LOTF where she speculates that the day where Sir Christopher Lee “died of old age” is a code for “returned to home planet/went for a nap in coffin for 100 years.”

So I devised this tribute offering to a great actor…

Christopher Lee: (sitting up from his casket in his Dracula cape) Birgit, beloved Christina. I know this was too soon, but it’s time for me to go.

Birgit: (sniffs) I’ll miss you honey.

Christina: Don’t go daddy,

Christopher Lee: Do not grieve, for you will see me again… now you do remember our plans, hun?

Birgit: Yes, I’ll shall tell our relatives that you passed and wait for four days to tell the public.

Christopher Lee: Good, good my love, that will be a wonderful diversion so no one will notice. (Lies down in casket). Now I’ll shall go join JRR Tolkein and tell him that Ian turned out to be a stellar Gandalf.

Birgit: But what do I tell your Heavy Metal crew?

Christopher Lee: Tell them they have to go on without me. My vocals shall be singing elsewhere for now, making countless Heavy Metal albums. And you shall be the only ones to have the privilege of hearing my singing across the stars.

(closes casket)

Christopher Lee: Farewell, my family. I’ll see you in the next life. Give Tim Burton and Johnny Depp my love. Tell him I’m sorry I can’t make more movies with him. Tell Peter Jackson I’m sorry I can’t do the Silmarillion.

(As casket is lowered into the ground.)

Christina: What are we going to tell the world?

Birgit: As according to plan… the headlines will say that he “died.”

(Bottom of casket spurts a bunch of rocket boosters and blasts coffin into space. Birgit and Christina wave at it as it becomes a speck in the sky.)

Christina: I hope the public doesn’t take it too hard.


Nap in piece, Sir Lee.



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